Wandmaker
by Liquifator
Summary: Josh is an American wizard from a half-blood family. As a present-day adult, his life is interrupted by a magical criminal investigation with kidnappings and murder. As a child, Josh receives a letter from Wambleeska, an American wizarding school, and aspires to become a Wandmaker.
1. Chapter 1

As a Wandmaker

 _Directly inspired by_ Harry Potter _by JK Rowling_

 _Characters derived from The Path by me_

( _First year complete_ )

Present Day

Warmth and light from the seven everlasting candles poured over the mess of scrolls and parchment on my desk and over my tired face, keeping the outside chill of winter night at bay. I squinted at the list I had been scrawling on the paper before me: one phrase, ten words long, that was repeated over and over about fifteen times. Standing less than a foot from my forehead was a bowtruckle named Etik, my longtime companion, and he was holding a glass plate of water firmly over my work in his strong, sharp, twig-like arms. I touched the plate gently with my wand and Etik's cranberry-like eyes widened as the water lifted itself into a convex body. Seen through this, the words on the desk parchment grew twice their size and seemed to jump off the page so my tired eyes could relax. I touched the plate with my wand again, with a slightly different flick to my wrist, and Etik must have felt it suspend into the air of its own accord because he consented to removing his own grip.

Satiated, I shifted my attention to a large textbook far to my right and began flipping rapidly through it. "Espial…" I muttered as my fingers danced around the pages. "Espionage… from espier… espiaille, in the French…" Grabbing my quill, I nudged the water plate a little to the side – it drifted obediently – and jotted down a couple notes.

That's when I heard the knock at the door.

My attention was startled rudely from the spell-in-progress and I looked nervously around my study for a moment as Etik hopped off the desk and ran toward the front entrance. I kept the room fairly spacious so my few prized pieces of "furniture" could bask in their own airy splendor. The main piece was my large aquarium tank which held several different aquatic beasts, including families of murtlap and plimpies—the former was valuable for my business, but both were capable of interacting with my magic. The table on which it stood was wide and held many fragments of soon-to-be-wands, from chunks of wood to scales, hairs, and whiskers of variety—many owners of which snoozed or played around me right now. Behind was my grand window to the blizzard outside, closed and curtain drawn for sake of night. On either side were my fire and iceplaces. Left and obvious, the fireplace was purring with a gentle glow and home to my fire salamanders. On the right was its cousin of my own invention: an iceplace. The same concept, it held a flurry of snow and ice, swirled like a gentle beach tide, fed on rock (preferably frozen), glowed a soft blue, and was a happy home to my frost salamanders. It was slowly becoming a commercial success among wizards in the Eastern desert countries with unforgiving summers.

I slowly began walking around my desk toward the exit of my study, just as one of my golden snidgets swooped whimsically past, making a loop around the brass perch I had set up for what I thought would be my lifelong phoenix companion. Alas, after several days of respite in my home, the powerful, majestic creature took her departure and has not returned. Walking out the door, I crested the stairway in time to see Appa – my griffin – and Momo – my kneazle – trotting toward the entrance ahead of me. Etik had swung himself atop Momo's back, easily the gentler and more docile of the two, as I peered between the curtains of my front door. Behind me, I heard my wife, Sarah, walking softly up. "Josh?" She asked. "Are you expecting someone?"

I shook my head in answer just as my eyes laid upon two warmly familiar faces, and my heart soared with curious happiness. "It's the Professor and Pofus!" I exclaimed to her, to which her face reflected a milder version of my own excitement.

I opened the door and bade them quickly inside. "Come in, Professor Ecclesiastes, come in! And you too, Pofus, you must be frostbitten!" Sarah held Appa back from leaping at them and soothed the griffin's wings from unfolding.

"Thank you, Josh, thank you," Professor Ecclesiastes responded tiredly but gratefully as he began removing his winter cloak, which I took from him as Sarah attended to Pofus. "I'm so sorry about this hour of visit. It wasn't intentional, but it's urgent that you find out."

"Urgent?" I asked, throwing Sarah a worriedly look that she reciprocated, this time fully.

"Yes. You see—have you heard of the recent kidnappings?" the Professor asked exasperatedly.

"I have…" I replied slowly.

"One of their bodies has turned up with very curious wounds – the Congress is investigating them as we speak – and another person has been kidnapped, Josh. It's—"

"Mr. Evercare!" Pofus wailed, speaking for the first time so far. "Mr. Evercare's been kidnapped!"

Wambleeska Year 1

Even though I'm the half-blood son of a Muggle and witch, my parents knew I was a wizard before I received my letter to Wambleeska: I had a very strong affinity to magic, especially in manipulating my environment. With my older sister being a Squib, my family couldn't have been more divided between worlds and all four of us (my father after meeting my mother, of course) gained extensive knowledge of both worlds during our lives together as a family.

The arrival of my letter from Wambleeska (Sioux, White Eagle) was a very bittersweet day for my family. It had come in with the regular Tuesday morning mail and my father's eyes lit up as if he'd won the lottery. My mother had been going through her personal mail: flicking through levitating parchments with her wand while her owl sat perched a few feet from her chair, and iPad with an open Hotmail account sat in her lap, waiting for its turn for her to peruse her Muggle friends' messages and business reminders. My sister had just graduated from eighth grade the previous school semester; her 15 and me about to be 11. She was sitting at the dining table, listening to music on her phone, working on some homework from her summer school class that she was taking to get a little ahead in order to study abroad soon. I was sitting on the floor, focusing on a glass of water on the coffee table, trying to persuade it to ripple or change forms. My parents had both encouraged this; I had gained a certain level of control over the mysterious circumstances that had surrounded me my whole life. After my mom had successfully taught me to stop them, she proudly proceeded to help me create those of my choice—under careful control, of course. Therefore, when my father called my name in snappy excitement from five feet away, the startle caused me to knock my glass over. I was almost frustrated at the mess it made when I realized with glee that the water had frozen, and therefore not spilled.

"Yeah, dad?" I asked, getting up and replacing the water on the table. I tried to will it to liquefy, but noticed it didn't respond as I turned my attention away. "Take a look at this, and show your mother!"

I knew what it was before I even saw the letter. There's nothing else my dad would be this excited about. But the confirmation was still awing: the official Wambleeska seal, the Headmistress's name and title at the top, my name printed in beautiful old English script beneath, and then the message I had to consciously slow my brain down to read: " _…pleased to inform… enclosed a list… we await your owl_ …" with the Deputy Headmaster's name at the bottom like a cherry on dessert. "Wambleeska!" I exclaimed, looking up to my dad, who bore an exaggerated smile.

"Are you excited?" He asked.

"No, this is probably one of the more boring moments of my summer," I told him sarcastically. "I'd rather be over there with Roxanne." I nodded over to my sister who was poring over a textbook.

My mom had already rolled up the parchment she had been reading and, with a wave of her wand, had the letters stack themselves neatly on the floor next to her as she received the invitation from me and looked at it for herself.

"Wambleeska, huh?" Roxanne called over from her place at the dining table. "That's pretty exciting! Are you ready to switch over your education?"

"I think I am," I said confidently. "I really like what I've seen of magic and can't wait to learn more.

Would you learn magic if you had the choice?"

"You know, I don't know if I would," she said. "Magic is cool and convenient and all, but I prefer more hands-on stuff. Not having magic helps you relate to more people and you don't always have to depend on a wand. Plus I want to be a real-life nurse, and you don't need magic for that!"

"I bet there are all sorts of healing spells!" I exclaimed.

"And I bet none of them can match a real doctor with years of experience," she smiled. "Anyway, are you sad to move away?"

"It'll be tough, leaving my old friends behind. And all of the Muggle world, huh?" I asked, turning to my mom.

"That's right," she said, having just finished reading the invitation. "Wambleeska is completely magical. There's nothing Muggle there, certainly no technology, and none of the purebloods will know anything about the Muggle world! I certainly didn't before meeting your dad. Well, besides what I learned in Muggle Studies, of course."

"And now we live mostly in the Muggle world, except on holidays," I finished, smiling at what I reflected on as our good fortune.

"Yep, with the help of a few hiding spells and charms so our neighbors can't see my magic or yours. So you should perform perfectly well the other way around, son! I'm sure you'll fit in great with your peers at Wambleeska. And you'll be able to relate with people of every family!"

And so it was with excitement and anxiety that my family took me, the following week, to Cyk Lake Market. After purchasing my robes, cauldron, first year's potion ingredients, and a snowy owl that had taken to me uncannily well, we encountered our first oddity of the school year at the wandmaker's shop. The owner was an older man who looked to be of Native American ancestry. He had thick gray hair that reached his chin on all sides and vaguely resembled a bomber hat. His suit was simple, gray like his hair, and patterned with thin white vertical stripes. After a solid half hour of trying different wands, the shopkeeper was still unsatisfied and my dad and sister had left to a café down the street. Books had been strewn everywhere, a window and multiple lightbulbs broken, winds had stirred a thick layer of papers on the ground, and several odd disembodied voices had even been heard. Mr. Evercare, as I had come to learn the shopkeeper's name through our difficulties, had disheveled several tall and, by the looks of them, carefully maintained stacks of wand boxes to the point that I felt pretty bad. The only consolation of the situation was that he stopped every ten minutes to help another customer, and even then there grew a line of two or three between each interval. A full hour after I'd come in, I was getting very worried. "This is incredibly rare, Mrs. Hatchlet," Mr. Evercare was telling my mother. "Wands usually aren't this particular. Although, you will be pleased to know that I don't sense that the wands are being picky—it's not that they don't want your son," he said, seeming to choose his words carefully. "It seems to me that they, if you'll understand, don't feel worthy."

"What do you mean by that?" My mom asked.

"The wands choose whichever witch or wizard they are most compatible with; whichever is most suited to their abilities. The fact that the wands are being so selective means that very few will be particularly suited to channel his unique gifts. May I ask the blood of your family?"

"Why?" She asked, slightly defensively. "Would that help you find him a wand?"

"Possibly," he said, taking no offense to her reaction. "If you are pureblood with a notable ancestry, it could account for the wands' particularity. For example, I'd expect a direct ancestor of Ocean to have enjoyed being the choice of the twenty-eighth wand I offered your son; being cherry and phoenix feather… eight and a half inches… I don't suppose you're a pureblood direct ancestor of Ocean?"

"No," my mom laughed. "Not that we know of. He's half-blood; his father's a Muggle, and I'm not aware of any ancestry my parents had. I was an Ether, myself."

"Ah, pureblood yourself, then? May I see your own wand?" My mother nodded and drew her wand from her purse. Mr. Evercare accepted and examined it. "Ah, almond and phoenix feather. Seven inches exactly. Beautiful… very rigid, yet rugged and full of texture. You have a very special wand there, ma'am, as I'm sure your son's will be." He handed it back. "But come this way, I think I have an idea…"

And Mr. Evercare led my mother and me to a different corner of the shop. As we walked away, he waved his wand dismissively behind us, and I slowed my pace to watch with wonder as the room began cleaning itself – everything from boxes restacking and windows repairing. "Um, Mr. Hatchlet…" Mr. Evercare had noticed my pace. "You'll be seeing that plenty in the years ahead, I assure you." He smiled, admiring my curiosity, and turned to my mother. "Wizarding families tend to take magic for granted. It's refreshing for the small things to be appreciated."

While my mom took the moment of walking to text my father our progress, Mr. Evercare led us through a short corridor to an entirely different room, lit by torches on all four walls. This room, he explained, was very unique in one aspect: its wands were infused with different hard elements like metal, bone, or mineral compounds. I looked around it with awe, trying to find differences among the boxes, wondering why he had led us here and what infused elements meant. I voiced these questions and Mr. Evercare gave me a look of approval before explaining briefly that it made the wands have unique properties that might correspond with my own magic differently. Then he removed a box from the middle of a shelf and handed me the wand within. I gave it a wave. My mother gave a start: Fire blossomed to life in the air directly around me, blazed for mere seconds, and then faded away just as quickly. When it cleared, she was at my side, her hands on my arms. "Josh!" She exclaimed, examining my face for burns. "Are you—?"

I looked up from my mom to Mr. Evercare, who was smiling expectantly. "He is unharmed," he said reassuringly, and my mom slowly backed away as she realized I was, in fact, more than fine. "Unfortunately, that is still incorrect. But we are much closer, among these."

He stood in front of me with another, but before handing it over, he looked to my mom. "The next display may be just as frightening, Mrs. Hatchlet. But I assure you that your son will come to no harm. If you wish, I can request qualified healers from the Congress come before we continue."

My mom took a deep breath and stepped back slightly. "No, I'm sorry. A mother just gets worried! But please, continue."

Mr. Evercare smiled sympathetically. "I would be more worried had you not reacted." He then handed me the other, and I waved it. A high-pitched rumble came from the exterior wall and all of a sudden the window glass fractured into oblivion, shaving itself into crystalline sand and pouring toward me through the air as if gravity had shifted. I noticed my mother was holding her hands to her chest in worry. The mass of sand reached me and immediately took a circular, swirling fashion, as if trapped in a tornado with very strict boundaries. I lowered the wand in attempt to slow or cease the display, and was pleased to find this effective—but it immediately shot outward like an explosion, forgetting its boundaries and stamping every surface with miniscule grains. "My apologies," the wandmaker said softly, waving his wand at my mom and himself so the sand removed itself cleanly from their bodies. "You certainly seem to have an affinity for the elemental," he said to me, perusing back through the hundreds of boxes. "But does an element have an affinity for you?" He stopped at one more and handed the contents to me. I waved the wand. Thick frost spread from my feet for two feet before building itself vertically in beautiful crystal forms, as if spreading up a glass surface. Within seconds a cylinder of oriental-accented patterns in ice had formed around my body, and when the form had reached the top of my head height, it also disintegrated into frosty sand: except this transformation was more peaceful, serene, an accepted change instead of a violent fracture like the window had experienced. Then all at once, the new snow vanished into thin air. Mr. Evercare was beaming. "It seems we've found our winner. Mr. Hatchlet, you are now the new—and proud, I hope—user and soon-to-be-owner of the gray mangrove and phoenix feather wand, infused with rare bone of yeti." I stared down at the wand. Before I had simply accepted it as yet another of dozens that I had tried; now I mentally allowed myself to feel it. A surge of cold, familiar power flowed its way up my arm and washed over my body like an ocean tide, like new falling snow. It was one of the best feelings I'd had to date.

My sister and dad were very excited to see me at the café after mom had bought the wand. She and I took turns explaining the bizarre events and the reward that I considered well worth the wait. My mom was also extraordinarily proud; she had repeated at least five times since discovering the wand that it was of phoenix feather core, just like hers.

And so it was early morning between four and six weeks later that my family took me to the Ann Arbor Amtrak and my mom led us to the ticketing windows. She told us there was an unmanned ticketing window between the ninth and tenth ones in the row, but only magical people could see it. Therefore I bid a heartfelt farewell to my dad and sister, and my mom helped me take my luggage just past the ninth window. Sure enough, expanding as if folding outward mechanically from the wall, another ticketing window appeared in the division with a "Please See Next Window" sign on the counter and a brass "9 2/3" label above. Following my mom's directions, I walked toward the window purposefully and was shocked when sunlight shone in my eyes and a cool breeze rustled my hair: I had appeared outside on a 1950s-styled station platform, bustling with witches and wizards of all ages, parents and students alike. My mom appeared within seconds, towing a couple of my cases behind her. Then, ten minutes later, we had said our own farewell and I was on the train as it pulled out.

I shared the train car with two others: a guy around my age with red curly hair and freckles, and an older Hispanic-looking lady with long pigtails. I introduced myself to the guy: his name was Kent Lofts and he was also Muggle-born, which gave us something to talk about. The lady seemed very involved in the book she was reading and fairly smugly uninterested in us kids, so neither of us bothered her, though Kent kept glancing at her as if he wanted to. The ride to Wambleeska took two full days: by the evening of the first the Hispanic lady left our car, and train staff came in to magically expand our chairs into bunk-beds. Because of space, we were moved to another car where two other boys our age had tucked themselves in already. I got in quietly but Kent didn't want to stop talking; luckily the boy lower and opposite him kept him satisfied with occasional responses. By evening of the following day, we arrived at a small wooden station with a magnificent view of what looked like a small, rugged mountain in the distance, whose slopes and peaks were filled with twinkling lights. Fifteen minutes found me rather stunned and riding with about five others in a wagon pulled on each side by what the school's Head of Security apparently called Piasa. These were serpentine creatures with talons, huge racks of antlers, partially-unfolded bat-like wings that appeared to triple their height, and although I only got a glimpse of it, faces that looked frighteningly like they used to belong to sad, elderly humans. As they made decent speed upon their muscular limbs and fierce talons, their wings beat lightly, producing a kind of gliding, bouncing that made the hills feel more like swelling waves.

My eyes had not been wrong: we were soon at the entrance of what _was_ , in fact, a very large, rugged mountain. Massive wooden doors opened to reveal a huge tunnel hollowed into the stone of the mountain, passing on into yawning darkness dimly lit by dozens of greenish-red flames on the walls that lacked torches. I found Kent again, and we followed the rest of the first-years through a series of wide tunnels cut into the mountain all the way up to its peak. This is how I realized it was a much shorter and wider mountain than usual; more like a plateau. If the entire bottom of the school was a system of caves, the Great Hall was the center, and by far largest, chamber. The corridor opened to the back of the Hall, from which I could see four very long tables full of upperclassmen that stretched in parallel to the front, where the professors already sat. As us freshmen made our way forward through the center, I looked back to take in the view and noticed that each table had its own unique, magnificently detailed, and strangely styled tapestry hanging above it on the back wall like a background. Above the leftmost table was a multicolored eagle depicted on a background of white. The next table over had a whale and blue background, then a buffalo on green, and lastly a sun on yellow.

The Deputy Headmaster then began calling people up from the line one by one to be sorted into the tables. I hoped to be placed into Ether, like my mom, but when my turn came, the Sorting Hat's internal conversation led it to one called Sky instead. This didn't particularly surprise me; although I knew little of what these meant, I was very fond of the sky itself. But then the Hat shouted "Soaring Eagle!" to the chamber, and for a whole moment I was utterly confused as to what that meant.

"Welcome," the Deputy Headmaster said to me. He was a short blonde man with light brown eyes and experience-aged face. He took the time-wrinkled hat gently from my head and smiled so genuinely I felt like I was the only student there. Then he took his wand, which I noticed was lightly dotted along its length with opulent white, and tapped it lightly against the badge in his other hand. It was as if it had been caked with dust and was just air-blown: a small ripple of magic pulsed over the badge's surface and washed it of color, leaving only white and red. But that's not what my jaw dropped at: in the same instant, the snow-white eagle on the badge burst into life, jumping off its perch and flying energetically through a crimson sky that I was actually surprised it didn't vanish off the edge of. "It's… soaring?" I asked, taking the badge and looking up at the man.

He looked affectionately amused. "And your challenge is to discover where. I found where mine was stampeding to," he winked, indicating his own badge that depicted an urgently-moving ruby buffalo running over hills of vibrantly emerald green. "I think wizards of our Trait always do, in the end." I sat beneath the Eagle tapestry and was further delighted when Kent's name was called to Eagle as well, even though his apparently preferred to glide.

It was then that the Headmistress made her way to the front podium and motioned for the students to hush as they ate their dinner. "Long ago," she began with a deep breath, "the leading Shamans of the Great Plains organized themselves into sects separate from that of the Muggle world, each according to the natural region they identified with most. The Sky Sect, dreamers who longed to drift with the clouds and felt at home in the highest altitudes, identified themselves by the Eagle. The Ocean Sect, changers whose deep intellect mirrored the water they so loved, felt kinship with the Whale. The Earth Sect, whose rationale was strong and rooted, were symbolized by the Buffalo. And finally, the Ether Sect, a mysterious group with an affinity for the unseen, looked beyond to the Sun for their icon. As time went on, these harmonious Sects realized that despite loyalty to their own, the vast majority longed to experience other Sects with which they felt significant commonality. Soon Ether proposed a solution that, despite reflecting their own Sect in mystery, proved effective. This solution was referred to as Traits: one of three traits that each individual feels more than the other, all of which transcend the Sects in equal potency. It's a trait of personality, one that cannot be described or explained, but that unifies the Sects deeper than the ocean, stronger than the earth, higher than the sky, and with more mystery than the ether from which it came. It's a trait which compels the Eagle to Soar, the Whale to Dive, the Buffalo to Stampede, and the Sun to bring its Solstice. Or if the Eagle is driven to Laugh, it could likely find companion among Singing Whales, Dancing Buffalo, and Twilight Suns. Or perhaps if the Eagle Glides, it may find stronger friends among Breaching Whales, Grazing Buffalo, and Dusk Suns. It goes without saying that I expect each of you to find lifelong friends among individuals of any Sect or Trait... but we have found that those of companion interests or learning styles can frequently be found among their own."

Around an hour found Kent and I following our Sect Prefect, Gordon Brown, up Wambleeska's second highest tower. Though the stairway was tight and steep, he and I both enjoyed the journey quite thoroughly and nearly tripped over each other in our race to reach the top. To our disappointment, it did not turn out to be the Eagle Sect Commons… but – I looked around to take in a statue, multiple desks with artifacts, and several historical tapestries in this circular, domed room – "A museum?"

"We aren't going to sleep here, are we?" A voice asked.

"Maybe the first years can!"

"Or the Gliders!" This last comment was met with some internal laughter among the group.

"This is Wambleeska's tribute to one of the most famous Shamans of the Sky Sect, Phealimus Edgecomb. He was a fantastic warrior and musician, known most for his use of the hammer, pretty unorthodox among our Sect." Gordon turned to a stained-glass window to the group's right, which I suddenly realized depicted a man—who I now assumed was this Phealimus guy. He wore a long, green winter tunic with detailed and colorful embroidering, held a staff in his right hand with the aforementioned hammer end, and sported an elaborate headpiece vaguely resembling the stereotypical Indian feather headdress. A large squirrel also sat perched on his arm. "Good evening, Mr. Edgecomb."

To my astonishment, the figure in stained glass shifted in place and looked down upon the Prefect. "You introduce me yet neglect to mention Hearthwater?"

Gordon rolled his eyes. "Really exciting battle at a creek," he said monotonously. "Cold weather. Killed lots of bad people with his hammer and magic."

Surprisingly, Edgecomb smiled wide as if this were the summary he had hoped. "The roaring river was frozen over but you could still hear its turbulence beneath the ice! I smashed a hole in the bank with my hammer, then stunned five people with one spell and threw them in!" The bored silence of the group did not stunt the beam in his glassy face. Finally, after a moment of basking in his own story, the warrior looked back down at Gordon. "Tell me, boy, Why do you seek the Sky?"

"I dream to glide among the Eagles on this night," Gordon replied, and Edgecomb lifted his hammer-staff, bowing his head lightly. The window swung open and a chilly breeze swept around the room, fluttering some of the looser tapestries. "That's not a set phrase," the Prefect addressed the group as he stepped up to the sill of the now-open window. "And I don't often hear that question, though I have before. Edgecomb analyzes your intention based on your answer and opens based on that. Some Skies haven't succeeded on occasion… but you'll get there if you keep trying.

"Now we cross the bridge to the Commons. The brick has been imbued with an invisibility enchantment, so no one can find it from the outside. Who wants to go first?"

Kent immediately started forward, pushing his way through the group, and I followed on his heels. We stepped up to the ledge, and Kent barely tapped the invisible stone with his foot in confirmation before leaping his whole body out there, to Gordon's amazement. I needed to feel the solidity with my whole foot, but I wasn't far behind, watching the school grounds pass by dozens of feet below me. The door on the far tower was simple and wooden, and Gordon just tugged on its rustic metal handle. The three of us entered into a huge spherical room unlike anything I'd ever seen before. The stone, though obviously present, was painted entirely in reflection of the atmospheric conditions outside. I could see the clouds all around at eye level, a bird flying far in the distance—in real time; it soon departed from view—and the sun slowly disappearing beneath the horizon. The circumference of the sphere, all the way around, was filled with organized tables and chairs of different variety. I could even look up and see the furniture resting on the ceiling above my head. We waited a short few minutes for the remainder of the Sect to enter the room and, as I stepped away from the entrance to make more room, I realize I did not feel the effects of gravity: I could make my way "up" the side of the sphere without stumbling.

"Welcome to Sky!" Gordon exclaimed. "As several of you may have noticed, the painting around the commons is bewitched to reflect the outside conditions of the sky in real time. You can see the sun, clouds, birds, and even storms. You all need to come out here during lightning storms or blizzards... it can be pretty amazing. Nice to study to, if you're not distracted.

"You'll notice the dormitories divided by Trait with entrances above us." I looked up on that note and saw three circular wooden doors above my head, arranged triangularly like the finger slots on a bowling ball. They were all marked clearly with Eagles exhibiting the titular Traits. "If you have any questions, I welcome you to ask. I'll be waiting out here for that reason for a while or until everyone leaves. And with that, I bid you all goodnight!"

Kent and I exchanged extremely excited expressions. The whole Common room was amazing and I absolutely loved the sensation of being suspended in the air through all this. I had a feeling the excitement wouldn't dissipate over my year at the school, and loved that I already had a friend. It was then with regret that he and I bid our farewells at the Trait entrances. When I made it to my room, only one other person had beat me: a dark-skinned boy whose name I learned was Adam. We were both shy at first, but as we started taking out some of our bedroom décor, I recognized some wizarding story heroes among his articles that my mom had introduced me to, and I was shocked that he recognized some of my favorite cartoon heroes from Muggle TV. This sparking instant conversation, I learned that although his family was almost entirely pureblood, his father was a Squib—non magic, like mine—and Adam had happily shared in the Muggle world with him. We bonded instantly over this, sharing our favorite stories and Muggle media and opinions of all of them. Eventually our other two dorm-mates appeared and we got along fine with them, but I felt a fondness toward Adam already, even greater than I had come to feel for Kent.

I was thrilled to find Adam and I had the same schedule. Flying class was first, held at the summit of the mountain in a grassy opening surrounded by stone buildings on all sides; it came naturally to both Adam and I and we loved it; I managed to reach a higher altitude than him, he managed to speed faster through the air. History of Magic was next, a starkly contrasting calm atmosphere, though the witch who taught it managed to spice it up by creating fascinating illusions of historic events around the classroom. This was taught in one of the mountain's exterior rooms, offering a huge view of the plains from the far wall. Charms was held in an entirely interior room by an elderly wizard dressed in eccentric red and purple robes and assisted by what Adam told me was a house-elf. Contrary to his wardrobe, he wasn't the most fascinating teacher in the world, but I found the subject extremely intriguing—while Adam was bored out of his mind. He also didn't seem to care much about the helping elf, while I kept wanting to ask her different questions about how her magic varied from ours. The afternoon held Transfiguration in a plateau-top building, which neither of us were particularly interested in, beyond my own fascination with performing any kind of magic. The day ended with Muggle Studies, held next door to Transfiguration, and felt it was quite like learning basic math again, and I was amused but not surprised that Adam truly respected our friendship in this class! The next day brought Potions first thing. It was held in an interior classroom that was rather prone to becoming warm with all the fires, and unfortunately neither Adam nor I felt intrigued by it. We had even worse sentiments toward Herbology, which was held in a plateau-top building. I was beginning to wonder what Adam _was_ interested in when we entered Defense Against the Dark Arts. Unsure how exactly to feel about this new passion of him, I decided to think the best of it, in hopes he could provide a good warrior should dark days come. The last new class of our week ended up being Astronomy, obviously held after sunset, and also obviously held in Wambleeska's highest building atop the plateau.

And so the school year went on. I maintained my best grades in Charms, often persuading Adam to stay after with me in order to help me master specific spells. In return, I'd stay behind with him to learn dark arts defense. In the middle of the semester we learned one that turned out to be my favorite of the whole year: _fire!_ Adam was, without surprise, also quite excited about this one. The two of us spent the entire subsequent two practice sessions on this charm alone, thoroughly scorching several glass bowls and using a fair number of the reserved extinguishing bottles. I even tried messing a little with the spell, trying to hold my wand in different ways and pronouncing the incantation, _Incendio_ , differently. This almost never resulted in more than pathetic sparks, thin smoke, or harmless combustions. But one specific combination of an increasing angle and forward motion led to flames that were noticeably larger and hotter. I tried for several minutes to reproduce the effect, but it would not.

We both became good at our respective subjects, helping each other out, and struggling to remain afloat in Astronomy and Herbology. History, Potions, and Transfiguration were also difficult, but we retained enough to do well. In our spare time, we also watched the Sky team practice the sport I'd come to learn was Quidditch. Adam had tried out for the team—and so, I learned, had Kent—but neither made it due the upperclassmen's huge experience gap. Yet we didn't let this stop us: one evening when none of the Sects seemed to have the Quidditch Pitch reserved for practice, we made our way down to it and checked out two school brooms from the locker. Since both of us had a knack for flying practice, we were able to take off right away and soar high into the air. Even though the Pitch was at ground level, both of us made it higher than Wambleeska's highest point within minutes, circling around each other for fun and then promptly branching out to drink in the incredible view. Patches of green and brown rolling plain went on for as far as I could see, broken innumerably with huge, majestic plateaus just like the one Wambleeska was built into. But then, as I crested over Wambleeska itself, I realized something I couldn't have realized from the ground: the entire school was shaped like an eagle. I had always assumed it was the vaguely circular shape that all other plateaus held. We had arrived in the evening after it had been dark, so I couldn't tell shape from the train. From the inside it was impossible; I had a hard enough time keeping track of where my classes were, let alone the exterior shape. I hadn't had many excursions outside, mostly just with class fieldtrips, and none far enough to glimpse the school from afar. And in Flying class we never went this high. But there was a definite eagle shape: I could clearly made out the head, two spread wings, and a tail. I motioned to Adam, who was more focused on teaching himself dangerous spinning tricks, to look down. He did so and I saw him gape at the realization.

Winter break came and I took the train back home, where my whole family was fascinated by the experiences I'd had, though I was devastated when my mom told me about the restriction on underage magic, which was strictly upheld by Congress of Conjurers. Instead, I channeled my deep interest into studying the incantations, writing them out and trying to understand what they meant. This helped immensely in the following semester as I realized I had been pronouncing some stuff wrong. I continued the practice through the next semester, writing down the different incantations and researching other ones in the library that were similar. Towards the end of the year, Adam and I were holding duels together… though we weren't very good.

" _Flippendo!_ " Adam yelled, pointing his wand fiercely at me.

It hit me square in the chest like an anvil and I felt my body go careening head-over-heels into the wall behind me. Attempting to react before he could relish his victory, I minutely adjusted the wand in my hand that was still pressed against the floor, so it aimed at the small chandelier above his head. " _Diffindo!_ " I exclaimed, and the metallic snap echoed through the dorm.

" _Wingardium leviosa!_ " I heard him shriek, and the chandelier froze mid-descent. "You jerk! _Reparo_ ," he muttered, but this wasn't his top spell and the chandelier failed to reattach itself perfectly. Unaware of this, he shifted his wand and his attention to a position just above my head. " _Alohomora_ ," he said, a hint of glee in his voice.

I don't even know why I tried pointing my wand at the cupboard and yelling " _Colloportus_ ," but the Locking Charm either missed or didn't work so quickly after its opposite had been uttered, and it cost me precious seconds in removing myself from the clutter of supplies that fell. I realized only as a large number of heavy books and boxes fell on top of me that I should have used the Levitating Charm on them, just as he had the chandelier. " _Fumos_ ," I heard him say, and groaned as smoke poured from his wand tip to fill the room. But then something useful _did_ occur to me. " _Expelliarmus!_ " I yelled, and a telltale clatter on the ground told me his wand had indeed flown from his hand. Seizing the moment, I jumped up, ran at him, and yelled " _Incendio!_ " Fireballs leapt from my wand and at his chest. Adam screamed as the balls engulfed him, mostly rolling over his shoulders and leaving a singed trail down his back, but a few caught on and began their own little infernos over his clothes before he managed to muster the presence of mind to pat himself down. All of a sudden, we heard a familiar metallic snap as the chandelier's botched attachment chose this moment to give. Both of us yelped and jumped backwards as the piece fell to the floor, sending metal, wax, and glass all over the floor.

"Spark if you're okay," Adam groaned, and I saw a shower of red sparks blossom and fade from across the room. I sent up green from my own. "Hey Josh."

"Hmm?" I leaned up to try and see him.

" _Mucus ad Nauseam_." A red jet lit the way from his wand to my face, and immediately my sinuses congested like a hot air balloon.

"Jerp," I muttered through what felt like a thick, swollen mouth.

Moments later, Gordon Brown came bursting into our dorm followed by Mitchell Stevens, one of our roommates. _"Stupefy_!" Adam yelled, and a jet of red hit Gordon in the leg. The Prefect gasped and tumbled to the floor like a wooden statue, stunned.

"Oh God," Adam groaned. "Josh, you're still on the ground, aren't you?"

"Guilty," I said.

Mitchell was laughing heartily. "Adam, you're in heaps of trouble." He looked around the smoke-filled and chandelier-littered room. "Both of you are. We can save ourselves a little by at least turning Brown in, maybe with a little bit of an altered memory. But not before you both tell me what happened!"

A couple months into the second semester I approached the Charms wizard at the end of class. "Professor Ecclesiastes, could I get your approval to practice Charms at home? I would really like to." The house-elf who assisted his class paused at the shelf she was attending and seemed to listen. The Professor wasn't happy with the request, but he also didn't give me a blunt, rude no, which I knew immediately was a positive sign. He had seen me after class nearly every day with Adam, even though the two of us often didn't directly involve him in our practice. Occasionally he had given us advice on how to improve specific charms, and once he even let me stay in the classroom after he'd left.

"And why should I do that?" His voice was as rough as the instruction he gave. "Even after that disruption you and your friend caused?"

I didn't even have to think about it. "Sir, I'm sorry about that. We both love to perform magic and we're at each other's level. I thought I could keep it contained.

"And this is my favorite subject. I'm think I'm pretty good at it and I'd like to continue learning, even outside of class, and especially during summer. Maybe next semester you could give me lessons outside of class!"

Professor was quiet for a moment. I didn't look directly at his eyes, but I could see the gears moving behind those experienced, gray glassy orbs. He wanted to grant my request, I could feel it in his demeanor. I liked him as a professor and I strongly felt that he liked me as a student. But it was a tall request and he couldn't let it pass simply for free. "My waistcoat is stiff from a long day and hurting my back. Please soften it."

 _Spongio._ I cringed. We had spent a whole day on this charm and I had trouble getting it. Neither Adam nor I had chosen to practice it outside of class either; it was not an effect that we particular desired to produce again, fitting neither with my elemental and environmental preferences nor his fighting and competitive preferences. To make matters worse, I remembered all too vividly the harsh effect a misfired Softening Charm could produce: a singed hole, thoroughly crumpled and dried around the area. This could not be any better against skin. Taking a deep breath, I drew my wand and made my way slowly to Professor Ecclesiastes' chest, his waistcoat exposed through his parted outer robe. "You can do it, Mr. Hatchlet," the Professor said softly. "From what I've seen of you, you just need to _want_ it." I need to dream, I reminded myself. Let my mind soar, feel the wind in my feathers and let that become the spell at my fingertips. _Spongio_ , I remembered again. With a soft 'J' sound and emphasis only on the 'S.' The wand held firmly and still in my gasp, already pointed, I exclaimed " _Spongio!_ " and a short, quick jet of pink light shot into the Professor's waistcoat. His face was serene through the whole process, but I had to fight to keep from clenching my eyes. No ashen blackness, no smell of smoke, and no grunt of pain from Professor Ecclesiastes, though I felt this was less likely. "Like fresh from the clothesline," he said, as if confirming the wetness of water.

He knew I could do it. _I_ knew I could do it. And yet the relief was immense… more, I realized, from living up to my Professor's expectations, than being able to practice magic at home. "Pofus will be checking up on you periodically at your home, to confirm you aren't taking advantage of my generosity." This was expected. Pofus, his house-elf, had been there watching me every time. She was a sweet little elf, motherly and quite the opposite of the Professor's rigid and abrasive personality. I was completely okay with this, especially since I was fond of her and she seemed to be of me, too. "Assuming, of course, that the Congress doesn't bar my permission. And, of course, that you still hold your request?"

My eyes widened. Knowing I'd passed was one thing, but hearing it spoken from one of authority was different—better. "Yes, sir! Yes I do! Thank you, sir! Thank you so much!"

He nodded passively. "The owl will address your mother and father with the Congress' approval. You may expect it when you arrive at home. Good day, Mr. Hatchlet."

"Good day, sir!"

"And Mr. Hatchlet?" I turned around. "Thank you."

I hadn't expected this and my mind went blank for a moment. "Um, sure… I mean, what for, sir?"

"I'll let you figure that one out for yourself." He returned to his tasks in the classroom, rebuttoning his robe.

"He said you could do _what?_ "

Adam was shocked, impressed, and more than anything, jealous. "Dude, not fair! I want to do magic at home!"

"Then by all means, go ask a professor," I said. "That's all I did. I had a reason though, and, I guess, a good reputation?"

"A reason and a reputation," Adam repeated, unconvinced. I nodded. "I think it's just cause he likes you."

I shrugged. "Possibly. But I doubt it. There seemed to be more than that. I think I earned it, Adam." He was still annoyed, but I could tell he didn't argue cause he understood what I meant, however reluctantly. Saying goodbye to our roommates for the summer, especially Mitchell for putting up with our shenanigans with a good attitude, we left the dorm and made our way to the Sky Commons lower in the tower. Meeting Kent there, we descended to the Wambleeska Great Hall where all the students were soon gathered to hear the Headmistress' closing address in which she thanked us all for a pleasant year and presented the scores: Earth had won the Sect Cup, much to Ether's despair. Ocean had come in second, us third, and the Ethers were last. I didn't much care about the celebration as the Great Hall was swept, as if by wind, with green followed by accents of red, purple, and black. Beside me, both Adam and Kent were reveling in the momentary festivity, clearly put off that our Sect had come in next to last, especially since Earths were before us.

"Next year," I heard Adam tell Kent, "This is going to be different. I'm going to practice Quidditch all summer and make the team. We're going to beat Earth, and we're going to come in first." Kent enthusiastically agreed, firing off several ideas—most of which I didn't particularly want involvement in—that could get Sky ahead.

Soon, the topic was forgotten as we made our way back to the Wambleeska Express. Looking back towards the school as I stepped toward the train with Adam and Kent, I could clearly see the upper surface of what I knew was the eagle's left wing, and I mentally retraced Adam's and my flight path with fond memory. Finally the three of us boarded the train, and the image of my sister on the other side of the Amtrak station was the most welcome thing I'd seen all year. A sensation of warmth rushed over me again:

I was home.

Present Day

My wife beside me, Etik clutched around my forearm in my sleeve, and my wand in my coat were thrice reassuring against the morbid atmosphere of the city morgue near midnight. The four of us – Professor Ecclesiastes and Pofus graciously accompanied – ascended the cold, sleek marble stairs in silence, having discussed our knowledge of the matter on the way over. Apparently this wasn't the first of recent crimes that had held relevance to me. Although the Professor hadn't been appropriately certified to explain the situation himself, he had prodded the official in charge to fill me in. I had lost a wand several weeks ago, nearing on a month now, which I knew was under investigation but had heard no leads. I had created it from the purest, most potent ingredients I had heard of in conjunction with my ever-wiser mentor and unfortunately now recent victim, Mr. Evercare, as well as several other international reputed wandmakers who I had the pleasure of sharing notes and a few key ingredients with. The wand we created was rumored to be nearly as potent as the legendary Elder Wand, one of the mythical Deathly Hallows, which was said to have been used by such historical figures as Headmaster Dumbledore, Dark Lord Voldemort, and the famous Auror Potter who had defeated him. It awed me that my creation could be compared to such. And, according to the Congress Official leading us now, it awed the suspect enough to steal it. I supposed I should have seen a theft coming, but quite honestly I'd never actually expected the wand to be used. Its creation was more a project for the study of theory and affectivity; not for practical usage.

"You may wish to remain behind, Mrs. Hatchlet," the the Congress Official Coroner, Mr. Klutch, told my wife.

"I appreciate your concern," Sarah said, "But I'm happy to accompany."

Nodding lightly, Mr. Klutch led three of us—Pofus _did_ stay behind—into the examination room where he asked us not to touch but merely observe. There were two technicians already in the room working around the body, who we quickly saw was a young boy. His body was sadly damaged, from bloody cuts and bruises to many other magical injuries, including several that changed dynamically before our eyes.

"A Muggle child," he explained as the technicians continued their work. "Sadly defaced. The extent and reason for the damage is still unknown, but we believe it was done by your wand. We're still working on removing enchantments so the body may be returned to his Muggle family." He went on to point out scarring around his lips that seemed to be reminiscent of a Growing Potion forcefully fed, and skin hardening all over his body due to manifestation of protective magic. More obvious was the hair changing from blond to blue before our eyes, the pupils glowing, parts of his body fading to invisibility and back, and the sudden levitation of his body a foot off the table that nearly gave me a heart attack. I was unable to recognize any of it but Mr. Klutch said they were all remnants of powerful spells cast on his body—and, gruesomely, into his flesh as if the wand were a syringe.

"And you think his wand did that?" Sarah asked as the Coroner led us back out and Pofus rejoined us.

"Yes," Mr. Klutch answered. "We don't recognize the magical signature from any wands we have registered for use in the state—which certainly hasn't helped us narrow down the suspect."

"But you _do_ recognize a signature," the Professor confirmed.

"Indeed. More like a tier of power, if you will. Just like how you can recognize a young wizard's Stunning Spell from an accomplished scholar's Patronus—the simple level of skill required is distinguishable. Similarly, you can tell tiers of wand power. People are most often familiar with children's toy wands versus a real one. Mr. Hatchlet, I'm sure you're more capable in this area."

I obliged. "Children's wands are often made of more simple ingredients like kneazle whiskers. They are less picky about who their masters are, even to the point of having more than one—convenient for young siblings. But they are very limited to the spells they can produce: Like you said, Mr. Klutch, probably only simple charms, defenses, and curses. Whereas an adult's wand is made of more potent—yet still common—ingredients like heartstring or feathers, which are capable of producing any spell its user can learn. Similarly, one of the first things I learned about the stolen wand—I called it the Sonic Wand, don't ask—is that its ability to produce more advanced spells was significant. It was actually kind of scary… when I held it for the first time, it almost seemed to want to cast a spell for me; it felt eager to show me what it could do. With most wands, you kind of ask it to produce a spell. With Sonic, it was like giving it permission."

"And that permissive signature is pretty easy to pick up on," Mr. Klutch continued. "It leaves a different magical impression on the target than many other wands, one that I bet the suspect didn't, well, suspect. It was a nice clue for the investigators to get quickly, and it's also what gave us the idea to ask you, Mr. Hatchlet. Beyond your connection to Mr. Evercare."

"Any leads on the Mister?" Pofus asked.

"Sadly, not yet," Mr. Klutch said. "But we have reason to believe he's not dead, at the very least. If we're right in that the same person who killed that Muggle boy, stole your wand, then it means he's not clean with his work. He's not methodical, at least not obviously. He probably needs information, especially on such a powerful and dangerous wand. I think he wants Mr. Evercare alive for instruction."

Wambleeska Year 2:

Coming Next


	2. Chapter 2

As a Wandmaker

 _Directly inspired by_ Harry Potter _by JK Rowling_

 _Characters derived from The Path by me_

( _First two chapters complete_ )

Present Day

It had been a very long night.

I made my way out of the local Auror office around one in the morning. It was attached to the No-Maj police station for investigative convenience, since more cases than one would think were connected between offices. Just like that of the No-Maj corpse I'd looked at with Ignatius, Pofus, and Sarah several hours ago. That same corpse had spurred me to check on a certain book I had begun to write early in my Wambleeska years, in part due to the Spellscripter's Club, but largely for my own interest. This book, then a casual journal, had compiled many years of spell studies, etymological research, and information on wandlore that it was more or less a bona-fide encyclopedia of power. Hundreds of spells, both practical and theoretical, which I had invented were recorded in that book. I recognized many of the effects of these on that No-Maj, so I had dismissed Sarah and the others back home and taken my own way to check on the book.

And it was missing.

This was the delightful news I'd just reported to the Aurors. They had received the news as well as anyone could whose investigation had just deepened. As per procedure, they recorded my summary of the book's contents, anywhere it could have otherwise been, and who else knew about its whereabouts. Sadly, this included Sarah, and Mr. Evercare. At least, they had assured me, this strengthened the possibility that he was still alive.

Etik nudged my hand from the passenger's seat as I drove the deserted late-night streets home, listening to calming music that reminded me of greatest love of all. This soothed me. I pulled in to the driveway and walked in, happy that Ignatius and Pofus seemed to have retired to their rooms or found a hotel, since I was in no mood to entertain. "How are you doing, hon'?" Sarah asked from the dark bed as I walked in.

"The book is missing," I sighed, sitting on the bed. "Just came back from the Auror's office."

" _Lumos_." Sarah's wandtip lit up from its holster on the bedside table. "I'm sorry about that. How are you feeling?"

"Stressed. Worried. Frustrated. I know I can't control any of it. But it still weighs on me."

"Probably something about being human," she mused. "It's okay. Let the feelings go. You know you can give them up. You'll do the best you can, and you won't be alone. Ever. And even if you fail, this isn't ultimately your fight. Don't make yourself responsible for Mr. Evercare. Or that No-Maj."

"Or the pureblood witch who they told me was just kidnapped?" I asked, smirking despite myself.

"Oh honey. They did? Anyone we know?"

"No," I said, and could see her relief. "But they think it's almost definitely related. They think all of these things are related."

Sarah nodded. After a short pause, she continued. "Yes. You're not responsible for her, either, God bless her and her family. Just do what you can for the Aurors."

"Thank you." Her words, reminding me of that greatest love of all, soothed me. I found peace in both of these and let sleep come.

"Oh, by the way," she added. "I invited our old Wambleeska friends. Adam and the gang. I figured seeing them would help you." I could hear the smile in her voice.

It wasn't till the following evening, after a calming day at the wand shop, that our Wambleeska Asian friend Nicole showed up. Her voice startled me about a foot into the air as I walked from my car to my front door.

"Hey Josh!" She exclaimed, materializing behind me. "It's really great to see you again. Been so long. You're even taller than I remembered." Her voice was as low as her head—about a foot closer to the ground than mine—and her long, jet-black hair shone in the evening sun and glittering snow all around us.

"Is it just me or are you using your voice?" I asked, teasing.

"I know, right?" She laughed, grabbing me into a hug. "I figured I should put it more into practice before I lose it. Plus, it weirds people out when you only talk with your mind. Even magical folk."

"It's good to see you too, Nicole. How have you been?" I escorted her up the icy steps to the front door, which I opened. Appa and Momo came running, and Etik leapt from the top of my head long through the air and onto Momo; his usual perch. Nicole watched this spectacle, impressed.

"Coming!" Sarah's voice was heard from deeper in the house.

"Oh, good, you know," Nicole said. "Working for the government isn't my favorite, but I figured it keeps them mostly off my case if I use my talents for them instead of a private company. But MACUSA isn't all that bad either. Good perks. Especially since they pay for my therapy… or I'd be under a heap of debt. The cases just usually aren't all that fun. So much interrogation of people who are honestly pretty obvious anyway. Not even any cool villains. I really wish I'd been there for Grindlewald back in the day; that would've been a blast. And a real help to people. So, I end up taking a lot of freelance jobs just to spice things up." She knelt down to give Momo some gentle love, but then turned to Appa's fierce beak and proud eyes with enthusiasm, rubbing and kneading behind his head and under his wing joint – places she'd learned. I could see the pleasure in Appa's eyes and his wings drooped a little toward the ground with satisfaction.

"So good to see you again, Nicole," Sarah approached for a hug. "My gosh, it's been so long. You said you're still with MACUSA?"

"Yeah probably until it bores me to a literal death," she rolled her black eyes in jest. "Or deem me unfit for something they find in therapy, which is also unnervingly likely. But it's good to see you both too." I closed the door behind her. "Besides the current situation, are you doing well?"

Ignatius and Pofus walked up, having been just a little behind Sarah. She and I gave Nicole a moment to greet Ignatius and the elf before we shared our part. "Spellcraft and Script is doing me very well," I started. "It has a share in all parts of the process, which I love. And it's doing very well. I even have my own crafting lab in my house!"

"I'm with MACUSA too," Sarah told them both, cause she figured Ignatius had forgotten. "Department of Foreign Relations. I specialize in merpeople with the welfare of aquatic beasts. They're a difficult species because their culture is so foreign to ours and their needs are so different, but I just love coming to understand them and discovering how we can create diplomacy."

"I don't think you started out that way," Nicole remarked. "You were barely warming up to water when I met you."

"It's true," Sarah replied. "I used to hate water. But then Josh—"

"That's a story for later," I laughed. "Do you mind if we catch you up on what's gone on around here? Sorry. It's just kind of on my mind."

"And understandably so!" Nicole exclaimed. "And Ignatius, you're here too. What do you do again?"

"Still a humble professor at Wambleeska. Though Ilvermorny has contacted me a few times about a transfer," he rolled his eyes, smiling. "There's nothing I love more than watching my students grow up. And Wambleeska has become my home. But yes, yes, there's a situation here that's reached my ears. It seems our old friend and wandmaking predecessor Frederick Evercare has gone missing. There's been quite a fuss about it, with other kidnappings, murders, and thefts that are all suspected to be involved. I came down because of my past and academic connections with Frederick, since the nature of these cases seems to highlight that. I thought I could help the investigations, and it was a great excuse to see old friends." He beamed at me and the rest of us, but there was something in his eye that told me there was something more. That while he told the truth, he also hid the truth. My mind shot back to a conversation I'd had with Sky Prefect Gordon Brown ages ago, and I wondered just how much depth there was to this.

"Wow," Nicole said. "Sounds pretty serious. Did you call anyone else?"

"I did," Sarah answered. "Kent and Adam should be coming soon. Adam might be longer because he never learned The Path."

"Ah, The Path," Ignatius mused. "It amazes me that you students came up with that fantastic, versatile spell as result of a school project."

I laughed, turning red with pride. "Thank you. But for now, we rest. We can do more when Kent and Adam get here. Nicole, would you prefer a room here or at a hotel?"

Wambleeska Year 2

To say my mother was surprised at Pofus' appearance was an understatement. Like me, she'd gotten along exceptionally well with the Charm professor's house-elf, and the two of them shared a long moment of catching up before the house-elf even acknowledged my presence. Only after a good ten minutes of conversation did she question the elf's entrance, and by that time my father and sister had come into the room, both gazing upon the visitor with wonder and curiosity.

"My wife has told me so much about you and other elves," my father said kindly. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you in person. My name is Blaine." My sister stood at the entrance and greeted her customarily before stepping into the background. I stood beside her, waiting for the conversation to turn toward me again.

"You mean Josh didn't tell you?" Pofus finally asked my parents, making her first glance at me a questionable one.

I just shrugged. "I didn't want to be disappointed if the permission was denied." On that thought, I realized she hadn't confirmed it. "—Was it?" I raised a brow, bracing for the worst.

"Permission?" My father asked.

Pofus looked to me expectantly, but I passed the question back to her with a nervous nod. She shook her head but relented. As she explained they nodded along, my father in authoritative understanding and my mother in familiarity but wonder. "MACUSA approved and gave you this," she concluded, pulling out a leather cuff. "It's enchanted to conceal low-level charms from the underage detector. All of the charms in your first two level textbooks will be concealed, but not many above that, so they will know if you abuse it!"

And so the first month of summer passed with excitement rivaling even the first year at Wambleeska. I was free to practice any and all the spells I wanted—and I could even use practicing as an excuse to get out of chores. It didn't take long for me to completely master fire-making, wand lighting, and unlocking; they were all pretty easy and really fun. In fact, I'm pretty sure my mom used her own locking charm on some doors in the house to prevent me from getting in, and other times she locked my wand away so I wouldn't accidentally set things on fire.

Around mid-summer, though, my mom realized I hadn't expanded off _Incendio, Lumos,_ and _Alohamora_. "There are several more charms in your textbook," my dad reminded me as mom fingered through the book for herself. He continued, "I'm sure Professor Ecclesiastes didn't give you permission just so you could have fun with your favorites. Didn't you tell us that he tested you with one of your hardest? You need to show him that you're actually taking his permission seriously and making the best of it."

"What about levitation?" Mom asked. "You really like the physical ones; why haven't you practiced that one?"

"I can already perform it…" I defended, thinking of my passing grade in the class and of the duel with Adam. "It's just hard to make it feel… natural. It doesn't come as easy and things can happen if it doesn't work."

"Then it sounds like you need to practice it more," she smirked. "Along with repairing, severing, softening—"

"I get it," I said, annoyed and understanding her point.

"You aren't in trouble," dad reminded me. "We just want to make sure you fulfill your promise!"

"And I'm sure the rest of those charms will be just as fun once you become more familiar with them," mom added.

It started out rather frustrating as I made a conscious effort to depart from the charms I was good at and move into the rusty ones, but I soon reminded myself why I had asked for this permission in the first place: they all came more or less easily to me. By the time summer's end neared and I received the owl from Wambleeska listing my upcoming year's required supplies, I had become proficient in all of them. My mom had even dueled a little with me—and had to brush up on her own basics to help me and, admittedly, clean up a few messes. However, there was one frustrating and lingering question that had been pressing on my mind since the middle of last year. The prospect of a return to Cyke Lake reminded me of the quandary, and upon brief explanation she agreed on a second visit to Mr. Evercare's shop after we had purchased all my school supplies.

"It's _Incendio_ ," I told the wandmaker. It was late in the afternoon and we were all pretty tired from a day of shopping (or in his case, attending customers), but he graciously agreed to address any confusion I had. "There's something about it that I can't figure out. I can perform it just fine; I have dozens of times. But there was one specific time I was practicing it with Adam—my friend—and I made it produce an even bigger flame. Not much; it wasn't dangerous, but it was definitely noticeable. But I want to be able to control it! I've tried every different gesture and angle and hand position I can think of, even different accents and stresses on the word."

Mr. Evercare was smiling softly. Did he already know what it was? "How much did you practice?"

"Ever since, up till the present. Though I've mostly run out of new things to try."

"The present?" He raised a brow. "But—"

"Oh, no, it's fine," I blushed, indicating my cuff. "I got special permission to practice basic spells at home."

"Is that right? How did you get special permission?"

"I asked my Charms Professor, Professor Ecclesiastes—"

" _Ignatius?_ That rusty old screw? I hardly imagine he just gave you permission."

"You know him?" I asked, bewildered.

"Sure! I know all Wambleeska teachers quite well. Worked at the school for a while m'self, before I realized I wanted to dedicate my life to my real passion. It was hard to leave though; I had a great life there. Tough decision."

"Wow… you worked there? That's amazing… what did you do?"

The wandmaker's eyebrows furrowed. "You're getting off topic, son. You said you asked Ignatius Ecclesiastes."

"Right. He didn't give it for free, like you thought. He had me do a task… perform a tough spell." To spare further questions he thought were coming, Josh elaborated on his own about how the chosen spell was one of his weak points. "I suppose you've kind of also seen that I'm better at physical or elemental things based on my wand selection, so he chose the Softening Charm, which is exactly not. And which is why I shouldn't have a problem understanding fire!"

"I assume the result was a success, based on the cuff you have. How did you do it?" Mr. Evercare asked.

I sighed, getting annoyed that I still hadn't dodged Mr. Evercare's questions and come to the answer yet. "I'm not exactly sure. It felt right. There was something the Professor said as I was preparing to perform the charm that helped. Something about 'wanting.' Yeah, he said I just need to _want_ it."

That same gentle smile softened the elderly man's face. "And he was entirely correct, Josh. I think you need to apply this line of thinking you used toward your weaknesses… and use them to improve your strengths. That's all I'm going to tell you. If you still need help, write me in a month."

I couldn't believe it. That was his advice? It wasn't anything! 'Do it again,' was basically what he said right there. Do what again? Soften something? Softening things wasn't going to help make bigger fires! I wanted to protest, but I could tell Mr. Evercare didn't want to continue, and he was leaving anyway. Well, he'd probably be hearing from me in a month.

Several weeks later found me in the Sky Commons. The sphere was swirling with ghostly glowing clouds lit by a bright quarter moon like a crystal ball trying to abide its teller's wish. And like that crystal ball, I was filled with thoughts of the future: what would the second year bring? My schedule looked new a different than last year. I didn't even recognize some of the class names. The sorting hat had introduced many new students to our Sect and to my Trait, and I felt too shy to meet most of them. I was scared, quite honestly, of what was to come. I had an edge on most of the other students thanks to Mr. Ecclesiastes' gift, but how much would that bring him to expect of me? I'd been practicing all summer on the Charms that we knew, but after looking through my new textbook, I was filled with uncertainty.

Breathing and trying to escape my mind, I made myself become aware of what was around me. Beside me, Adam had a trumpet he had brought from home which he was actively pumping tunes from. I had my wand and bowl in hand and realized I'd been shooting tiny fireballs into it for the past fifteen minutes – the sight depressed me; the fire was no different than ever. The wand dipped as my hand loosened, my focus more on Adam's melody.

"When did you start playing?" Kent's voice entered the scene, directed at Adam.

"About five years ago. I'm planning to join the Wambleeska band. I wanted to last year also, but I wanted my own instrument. And first years aren't allowed."

"We know," Kent said. He had attempted to join several competitive sports last year. "But band, huh? Can I join?"

Adam lowered his trumpet and looked to Kent. "Really? You want to? Why?"

Kent looked insulted. "Because I like instruments!"

Adam raised a brow. "Uh huh," he said in unconvinced monotony. "Well, of course you can. I'll let you know when I go to tryouts."

"You play really well," I said passively. "Do you already know when they meet? I'd enjoy sitting in practice sessions if I'm allowed."

"We can try. It might conflict with Quidditch though," Adam said.

" _Really?_ " Kent sounded hurt. "Man, decisions…"

"I don't get it," I whispered in frustration, gripping my wand and bowl tightly in my hands. "What was he talking about? It doesn't even make sense."

Adam put down his trumpet. "What are you talking about?"

"Incendio," I said glumly. "I can't figure it out."

"I wish that were true, I may have emerged less burned from our duel last year!"

"Next time you two duel you need to let me know so I can get in on it," Kent added.

I chuckled glumly at Adam. "But there was a thing I did before. I made the flame bigger. And I haven't been able to do it again."

"Right, I think you mentioned that before," Adam recalled. "But it didn't seem like a big deal at the time. You're still stuck on it?"

"Well, something really happened!" I defended. "It's not just some rabbit trail. Even Mr. Evercare seemed to think I was on to something."

"Really? What did he say?" Adam perked up.

"Nothing particularly helpful," I grumbled, and Adam understood to drop it. Trumpet notes resumed, and I looked up curiously to where Kent was. Several new faces had been trickling into Sky over the past hour, and I found him speaking energetically to a girl I didn't recognize. Shrugging it off, I switched my focus to a motion-freezing charm from my second year textbook which had looked particularly interesting. I tossed a coin from my pocket into the air and casually flicked my wand at it, mumbling " _Immobulus_." A pathetic blue spark coughed from my wand and limped through the air to the coin, barely intercepting it. The coin sputtered in response, spinning almost undecidedly in the air at first before slowing in its fall. The moment my mind switched from focus on the spell, however, it immediately dropped to the floor. Glancing up, I noticed both Adam and Kent looking over at me with smirks. I nodded at what I considered the degree of success, and continued practicing.

The first day of classes brought my ultimate favorite in the morning: Charms, with Professor Ecclesiastes. At least, I knew it as Charms – the new name for the class was Incantations & Wand Use, and now it was divided into a lecture and lab. Being simply part II of Charms, it included more or less the same students as I had seen last year; with one or two missing and new. The Professor greeted me personally as I walked in but gave no further acknowledgement as the class went on. Pofus, however, couldn't seem to help but give me extra attention. She greeted me and checked on me frequently throughout the class, at one point even stopping for a full-on catch up of my summer. How had my training gone? Were my parents receptive of it? I humored her until the Professor himself stepped in, nudging her to get along with helping the other students. The lecture seemed almost identical to last year, especially since we simply rehashed old lessons, but when lab began, my excitement grew. The Professor waved the desks away and we spent the first hour learning a new spell – conjuring magical ropes – and spent the rest of the time practicing it and old spells and wand positions.

Herbology was next, combined with Potions. It was held in the same plateau-top greenhouse and taught by the same lady, Professor Eleanor Portetsky. Adam and I continued to feel similarly unentertained by the subject matter until malicious, adaptable potions were discussed and, at the end, the topic of high quality wandwoods was introduced. The two of us walked away with a similar glimmer of intrigue in our eye and the intent to learn more. After lunch was Adam's favorite: Defense Against the Dark Arts. We walked in to a significant surprise: The Deputy Headmaster, who had handed out our Sect badges the previous year, was behind the teacher's desk!

"Where's Professor Williamsen?" I asked Adam, hoping he'd received some sort of note I hadn't. "What's the Deputy Headmaster doing here?"

"I dunno," Adam said as they took their seats. "Guess we'll find out."

When the class was seated, the Deputy Headmaster stood up at his desk. "I assume you're all wondering where Professor Williamsen is," he said with pointed brevity. "But I would like to reflect this question back upon you all. Can anyone hazard a guess?"

No one spoke up. I looked to Adam in curiosity, but his eyes were glazed over in puzzlement. After a moment he looked back at me and whispered, "Why would he even ask that?" I could hear the unspoken questions between the lines: Why not answer the question and move on? Why dwell?

"Is he sick?" Someone in front of us asked. I could see Adam shake his head in my peripheral. At first I would have thought the same, but now I had to agree with Adam: if it was that simple, we would have been told immediately.

"No. I can tell you for a fact that he is quite well." The Deputy paused and, seeing the confusion around the room, continued. "What if I told you his absence was, in itself, a lesson of the class?"

"What?" Adam and I whispered.

"So he'll be back tomorrow and we have to figure out where he went?" The same voice from the front asked. I felt an involuntary wave of pity for her lack of thought. No, the Deputy wanted us to figure it out now.

"Do we get hints?" Someone else asked.

"How is it a lesson?"

The Deputy continued: "Do you know where else in the school he goes? Where have you seen him outside class?"

The class fell quiet at these seemingly simple questions. I had to ponder it as well: why was the answer _no?_ Now that he mentioned it, I had not, in fact, seen Professor Williamsen anywhere outside the class. Not in the halls, not outside on the grounds, not even—I could feel myself pale—among the other professors in the Great Hall. I looked to Adam, whose blank face reflected mine.

"Is he actually here?"

The Deputy put his hand up to stop the class. "You! Who said that?" Someone a few rows away from us gave her name. "Excellent," he said, addressing her by name. "That is precisely correct. And now for sake of proceeding with the lesson, the Professor will reveal himself." On cue, every student began looking wide around the room, but no one appeared or spoke up. My eyes then settled on the girl who had given the answer: and I followed her gaze back forward to the Deputy. Before our eyes his body began transforming; hair and skin pulling and shifting, face changing shape, height dropping by inches, until he looked identical to the Professor. And then it clicked, with mind-spinning weight: he _was_ the Professor. "I don't have an explicit reason for changing my identity to befit the first years. Possibly to break down any wall of superiority my formal title may present. Perhaps as a trick. Perhaps because I'm shy, or—perhaps because I am _not_. Perhaps I may in fact be Professor Williamsen, and only disguise myself as the Deputy Headmaster." Probably for irony's sake he chose that moment to change his body back. Without spoken word or flick of wand, his body simply shifted once again, gaining inches, changing color, and hair extending, until the Deputy Headmaster stood before them once again. "I am called a Metamorphmagus. I use this lesson to show that the Dark Arts may not always specifically require Dark Magic. Any magic can be used for deception or for malicious intent. And to defend against this, you need to understand this fact."

History of Magic was the final class of the day. It was still taught by the same witch in the same classroom with the same illusions. I took slight more interest now that I had a year's worth of background knowledge on the nation's magical heritage and conflicts such that her lessons made more sense, but Adam and I were still mostly bored throughout. This brought the end of our day and we met Kent in the Sky Commons before returning to the Great Hall for dinner. His classes were mostly the same as ours, just at different times. I was surprised to note through our dinner conversation that Kent was enjoying Defense against the Dark Arts just as much as Adam. "That was pretty amazing, that thing the Deputy did," Kent was saying through forkfuls of wild rice with deer meat and squash. "He did it flawlessly too. I can't imagine how much more potent and effective that kinda thing would be with actual dark magic!" He took a swig of apple juice.

"You think?" Adam asked, looking at him in wonder behind the cornbread in his hand. "Dark magic could do more?"

"For sure. I bet you could confuse people, distort their focus, plant ideas in their mind, maybe even control them! With the right magic, that is. In fact, I think the best way to learn to defend against something, is to learn how to use it in the first place."

This startled me. I wasn't sure whether I was ready to hear one of my friends say something like that. "Would you want to learn to control someone then?" I asked.

Kent gave me a look. "Would you think of me different if I said yes?" I looked back confused and swept my gaze to Adam. His shone similar confusion. "Anyway, I said learning was the better way of defending _against_ it."

The next morning brought Transfiguration first thing. "The first day of any class' second year is always one of my favorites," the professor said as soon as the class had settled. "Especially when I teach the class that follows Defense Against the Dark Arts." A wide smile spread over his features as confusion and startle sparked on the class. Without further hesitation, he transformed: his head dropped like a weight and his fingers and nose seemed to grow in order to contain the newly proportioned mass of body, and from his back exuded two new arm-sized growths that I hoped were wings. Immediately he rose gently through the air till he was close to the ceiling, his wings (I was right!) beating only slightly. And—was it me or—was he glowing slightly?

"How many of you are there?" Someone towards the back yelled. "How many professors are going to change?"

The newly formed professor smiled down on us. "My name's Epenau, I'm a Pukwudgie. My species is native here like the founders of this school. Sorry to those unfamiliar with magic culture; this must be quite a shock. Though people who are familiar might still be surprised since my species prefers isolation. As for transforming, I'm an Animagus. The term refers to any double-species transformation; not just animals, despite the root word."

"Why choose human?" Another voice asked. "Being an Animagus means you taught yourself to transform, right? Why become one of us?"

I wondered whether this question would border on offensive to him, despite professionalism. But the same genuine, cherishing smile shone from Epenau's face, and it did not seem practiced to me. "As I said, Pukwudgies tend to isolate. It's because most of us are very shy. I am too… not proud of it, but I am. I don't like to experience newcomers' reactions."

After two professors changing their bodies, I was relieved at the normalcy of flying on a broom. Professor Gentry seemed at last to be quite a human witch, and even her abrasive, competitive teaching style was comfortable after the relatively brutal culture shock from the previous lesson. It was a field Adam and I were much more comfortable with after our previous year of practice, and a class we actually shared with Kent, so the three of us had a blast under the noon sun.

Finally came the last class of the day and the last new one of the year. An elderly lady was standing in front of the blackboard scripting her name: Dr. Kaylee Kopanuk. The woman had long, thin, black hair braided with beads and wore a subtly colorful, comfortable looking robe. The room was in a building of its own on top of the Wambleeska plateau. It was large and spacious and the most like No-Maj public school I had seen from Wambleeska so far: regular chairs and desks, and several bookshelves lining the walls. It struck me as odd, though, that the majority of these shelves were empty.

"Welcome to Magical Applications and Theory," Dr. Kopanuk said sweetly once everyone had entered. "And to my little corner of the school. I take great pride in my work here and hope all of you come to appreciate and possibly even understand it.

"To begin: What is magical theory?"

There was silence for a moment. Then a voice behind me and a few rows to my left spoke: "An explanation for how magic works or what magic can do that has not yet been proven." I looked to the voice, and was startled. It was the same girl who had identified the Deputy Headmaster in Defense Against the Dark Arts _and_ asked Epenau about his species choice in Transfiguration. This time I took more note of her appearance, admittedly attracted to this intelligence she had displayed. She had long blonde hair and wore pastel blue and pink accessories. The badge on her chest displayed a red whale swimming energetically down through blue water, tiny red bubbles bouncing off it.

"Correct," Dr. Kopanuk said. "And well put. In this class we will discuss the theory behind magic as a whole: how it is knit into nature, how it manifests in people, and what enables us to manipulate our surroundings with it. Then we will study current magical theory: ideas of those forefront in magical lore, what of their theories is sound, and what has yet to be tested. Finally, we will Apply all these theories. To the best of our ability, we will create, we will do, we will destroy, and we will challenge what we know based on success and failure.

"Allow an example." She walked over to an empty shelf, then turned to face the class once again. "Several years ago, an Herbology Major came to me from Uagadou, an African Magical school, wondering if there was a way to create fresh produce for smaller villages despite the dry conditions and extensive need. Together, along with help from some colleagues, we determined the building blocks of successful plant growth: a seed, water, mineral rich soil, sunlight, and time. Granted that last factor took us a while to figure out. But at last, we were able to combine all into a device that has been a commercial success across the African continent. Behold, instant fruit." Dr. Kopanuk seemed to tap an area in the middle of the empty shelf and a mysterious mechanical device appeared glimmering out of nowhere, as if a curtain of water had splashed down from veiling it. "It all begins with a seed." She selected one from a few tiny cups nearby, and placed it somewhere on the device. Inviting the class closer, she tapped another area on the device with her wand. We all watched in awe as black soil was conjured to surround the seed, a dense fog of water vapor condensed into the soil, and suddenly it began to glow a bright, warm candescence from no specific source. "The spells you will be familiar as _Aguamenti, Lumos Solem,_ and simple soil conjuring were applied and modified." Someone reached their hand toward the machine and Dr. Kopanuk pushed it away. "Please, it is dangerous to go near. Time-Slipper technology was incorporated in order to increase the rate of growth."

"Is that the same as Time-Turner?" A student asked. "My friend from Hogwarts in England has mentioned those."

"The same; names vary by region. Then you should understand the caution needed." Dr. Kopanuk indicated back to the moist mound of sun-baking soil to point out the tiny stem already peeking out and visibly growing larger. "It will still take hours for fruit to appear and ripen, but that is vastly superior to the months it takes naturally. Meanwhile, we may begin class."

"One more question," someone else asked. "The shelves all look empty. Does that mean there are other devices that are invisible?"

"All around," Dr. Kopanuk winked. "And I must advise you not to snoop."

And so went the first week of classes passed by without incident. Club meetings began the second week, and I found myself following Adam and a surprisingly-excited Kent to band practice. It took place in Wambleeska's concert hall, a large cavern a little lower within the plateau and, according to a warning sign at the entrance, lined with acoustic enchantments to amplify and clarify sound (the sign warned against the placement of conflicting enchantments). It was a roughly spherical space and dimly lit. The bottom half was almost entirely fixed folding seats, all a deep velvety red, which seemed to further suck light from the room. The front held a large black stage raised several feet with dark red curtains to match the seats. The ceiling was spacious and domed, a chalky gray rock, carved and stained with light color. I was surprised to see Dr. Kopanuk among the handful of professors sitting in the front row, observing the tryouts. There weren't too many students sitting at the back of the stage, and my heart jumped to recognize the intelligent blonde lady from my classes among them. She held a small violin and seemed inwardly focused, practicing.

"Well, wish us luck!" Adam exclaimed, tapping Kent to follow him toward the stage. Both held their trumpets proudly, Kent's rented unashamedly from the school.

Retracting my attention to myself to find a seat in the vast open space of empty chairs, I noticed only one other student sitting there. In fact, he was difficult to notice at first, because he was dressed entirely in black and was facing intently down at his lap – black hair being further camouflage. Summoning a smidgen of courage, I made my way up the rows to this very black-clad boy. "Hey," I said. "Not interested in music?" He was lanky and pale, had a close-cropped haircut, and all his clothes were plain black – though comfortable looking, at least. His badge depicted a dim yellow sun that seemed to be continuously sinking further into the black horizon, but even as I watched for a moment, it didn't fully disappear. I was also slightly surprised at the captivating shading the badge managed to capture with only shades of yellow and gray.

The boy looked up with mild irritation. "First year," he said shortly.

"Ah. Then very interested, if you're still here." I held back the disappointment from my voice; I thought I had found similar company.

"Eh, not as you might think. I just really like the atmosphere in here. Helps me write." He gestured to the notebook he was hunched over. "But I wouldn't mind trying out next year. Mild interest." He paused for a few seconds and I thought he was done with the conversation. "And yourself?"

"Supporting a couple friends. They just went up to try out." I thought I saw something in his eyes at this statement, but ignored it. "Otherwise I'm just gonna practice some charms."

"Homework? Seriously?"

"No. Not homework," I chuckled. "I'm actually interested in it. Weird, I know."

"I'm Jared," He said.

"Josh." We shook hands. "Mind if I sit here?"

He shrugged, so I took my place and began working on that freezing charm from earlier. It was a little while later when a heard a different, female voice approach us. I recognized the voice from class. My heart jumped again. "Hello there! I'm Sarah, what are you two doing?"

I was slightly stunned and it was a moment before I found my voice. "Oh hey! Sarah you said? Not much here, just waiting for a couple friends. Do you and—" I glanced at the black-clad boy to my right and racked my brain for the name he had given. It had been a J, like mine— "Jared know each other?"

I noticed Jared look at me and shake his head, eyes a little wide.

"Nope!" Sarah exclaimed cheerfully. "But you two are the only people in the chairs, besides the judges. So I was just curious. Can you hear much from over here? One person playing can be pretty soft, and none of us are really outgoing right now. Even for band geeks."

"Dang, right, this means I missed you playing!" I blurted out, and my cheeks almost reddened. "I really like violins," I covered honestly. "I saw you had one when I walked in and wanted to hear you play. But I didn't realize when you started. Darn."

"Oh really, you wanted to hear me?" She paused, turned toward the stage and watched for a moment. "Well, you probably couldn't have heard well even if you were listening, from way back here. But I think I did pretty well so I'd be willing to play again!"

"Oh cool, you would?" Wow. I didn't expect that. I glanced at Jared, who didn't seem too overwhelmingly pleased, but he wasn't scathing her away either. "Yeah, I'll take you up on that!"

Smiling, she began taking her violin back out of her case.

"Sorry," I chuckled, "I imagine it hasn't been that long since you just put it back."

"It's okay. It's not that difficult to get in and out." Moments later, the instrument was in her hand and she was weaving notes with the—whatever you call it. More moments later, even Jared looked less annoyed.

"You're pretty good," he said.

She smiled at him. "Thank you."

"I really hope you get in," I said.

"I don't think that'll be too big of a challenge," she replied. "Not many people tried."

It was around then that Adam and Kent walked up the rows of chairs from the stage. "Hey Josh," Adam greeted pleasantly. "Who are your new friends?"

"This is Jared," I said, indicating the apparently very quiet boy in black. "And this is—"

"Sarah. Pleasure," she smiled sweetly and shook hands with Adam and Kent in turn.

"I'm Kent," he introduced. "S'about time my man Josh met a girl!"

"Ignore him," I said. "Kent's just like that."

Sarah laughed. "Then you're in the right place. I think you two were the only guys up there."

"Is that a magical stereotype?" I asked curiously. "In No-Maj public school, guys and girls were both equally into instruments."

"Couldn't say," Sarah said. "I grew up around magic."

"Pureblood?" Jared asked.

Sarah raised an eyebrow at him. "Not sure," she said. I wasn't sure whether she was making an emphasis, but I felt slight tension. "Never asked and was never told. Just grew up around it." Jared nodded silently. She turned back to me after a short moment. "So why weren't you up there?"

"Eh, just not into instruments all that much," I said simply. "Listening is great though. Very peaceful. And like Jared said, nice to write to." Jared looked up at gave me a smirk.

"What are you writing?" Kent asked, looking down at the still-hunched Jared. He looked back up, unsure.

"I can't believe I didn't think to ask that," I exclaimed. "What _are_ you writing, Jared? You've been working on it this whole time." But I immediately regretted my enthusiasm. Jared looked scared, not quite as open to sharing as I had hoped.

"Hey, it's okay, man," Kent said. "No need to share if you don't want to. I was just curious since you're the only one here without a reason." Jared's face darkened and reddened. He seemed to breathe deeply, and then closed his notebook. I thought he was going to change the subject, but then he suddenly handed it up to Kent – finger marking the spot between pages. Kent's eyes widened a little, but I could see him realize he needed to control his reactions, and his face softened. He took the notebook and opened it to Jared's marked page, holding it so only he could see. A moment of uncomfortable silence passed as he read. "Dude, this is awesome stuff. You're really good. You sure I can't show the others?"

Jared didn't reply but took the notebook back. "This place is good for writing. That's why I'm here."

"And that's a perfect reason," Sarah said. "I wish more people were like that." She turned back to me suddenly. "And what are _you_ into? If you're only here for your friends, you must have a hobby."

I thought for a moment, but it didn't take long. "Spells," I said, trying to keep it simple. But related interests popped into my head immediately: "Charms. Wands." I noticed Jared look at me, but couldn't decipher what was in his eyes.

"Well isn't that why we're all here?" She chuckled.

"But I really enjoy it. Especially learning new spells."

"He means it," Adam said. "Professor Ecclesiastes even—"

"Adam!" I snapped, eyeing daggers at him.

"Don't worry Josh!" Adam defended. "It's not a big deal. But you're right, I shouldn't tell it. _You_ should."

Embarrassment flooded my face. I wasn't super willing to elaborate on the weird extents of my interest. Asking a professor for special permission to do homework outside school? That's _weird_.

"Why don't I know about this?" Kent asked, eyeing me.

But suddenly Jared spoke. "I'll let you guys read my stuff if you tell us what Ecclesiastes did."

Sarah smiled big. Kent did also.

"Fine," I said, and told them about the favor I'd asked the Professor at the end of last year. I told them about the test he'd had me perform, and about the cuff the Congress of Conjurers had given me. "And I really enjoyed the whole thing," I concluded.

Jared cursed in good humor. "And I only have a page of wimpy writing to show you guys."

"Hey man," Kent said. "Not cool."

"That's amazing," Sarah said. "I can't believe you asked for a special favor. And the _Congress_ gave you permission? And I thought skipping a year of school was special."

Everyone perked up.

" _What?_ " Jared asked.

Sarah blushed. "Oh, sorry. But yeah. Remember how I said I've grown up around magic? Well, that includes middle school. I went to a private one for witches. Took advanced classes. Credits transferred."

"I was thinking I hadn't seen you around in our first year…" Kent said, glancing at me.

"Well, Kent and I will very much enjoy being normal together," Adam joked with inflated pride. "Thank you very much."

"So you're kind of like a first-year yourself?" Jared asked Sarah, new interest in his eyes.

"As far as practical experience goes," she shrugged. "But anyway, now that _two_ of us have shared our deep dark secrets to people we've only just met, I think it's your turn."

"Being a nerd is hardly deep or dark," Jared mused, glancing at both Sarah and me. "But fair is fair." He opened his notebook and passed it to me, being right next to him. It looked to be a poem at first glance, encompassing the whole page, with a sketch on the opposite page. I read through it and was quickly impressed. It seemed to describe loneliness in comparison to the moon, dense with vivid descriptions and beautiful prose. It seemed cryptic in a way too, as if there was hidden meaning between the lines that I probably didn't know him well enough to decipher. The sketch itself was a full moon hidden slightly behind clouds, both of which held surprising detail.

"Dang," I said, "That's intense. Really good, Jared. _Really_ good." I passed the notebook to Sarah, who was directly next to me.

As the group finished up, Jared brought the discussion back to me, possibly as a way to hide from excess attention. "So why don't you join a club about magic?"

The suggestion caught me completely off-guard. It was both out of nowhere, and completely obvious. Jared, Sarah, Kent, and Adam were all here because they wanted to be. Well, I was pretty sure Kent had his own reasons, but they were still directly related to activities here. "I… don't know."

"That's a great idea!" Sarah exclaimed. "You should find a club that suits you. I bet most of us would be willing to tag along if you found one."

"Wambleeska has all sorts of clubs," Kent added. "I checked. It shouldn't be hard to find one."

"I'll take a look." With that, the last tryout ended, and the teachers were beginning to pressure us out of the auditorium. We all got up and as we exited, I noticed Kent purpose himself closer to Jared.

"How do you write that kinda stuff?" I heard him ask, before the two of them split direction from us and we all went our separate ways.

But it _was_ hard to find one.

After looking through the Sky Commons posters, I became quickly discouraged. Quidditch, tutoring, band practice, Footswipe—an odd magical version of football that I'd never bothered to learn the rules for, Wizard's chess, even an academic Olympiad.

"What kinda thing are you looking for?" The voice was that of Gordon Brown, the Sky Prefect. He was walking toward me from the bridge entrance, probably interested in making official-sounding recommendations as a Prefect.

"My friend said we have all sorts of clubs here," I said, a little disappointed. "I thought he meant it."

"I suppose that's a matter of prospective," Gordon said. "I was homeschooled up until my letter for Wambleeska. By No-Maj parents. So that wall looks pretty radiant to me."

"Sorry," I said, embarrassed. "My mom introduced me to a bunch of magical games when I was growing up. So you're right, it's prospective."

"So what aren't you finding up there?"

"Something particularly magic-focused. Not using it to do something else, like chess or Footswipe. But focused on the magic itself. On spells. Or maybe on wands."

Gordon chuckled, impressed. "Wow. I guess you really know what you're looking for."

"Except that I don't." I noticed my own whine and winced.

"Well I don't think anything up there will cater to that. So why don't you make your own club? It's the beginning of the year, you might even get a couple meetings in."

The second novel suggestion in less than twelve hours that floored me in its obviousness. "Wow. I hadn't even considered that. Sounds intimidating… but really cool."

"You said spells and wands? Then you could ask Dr. Kopanuk. Magical theory, she'd be all about that. Plus, she already has an interest in clubs; she helps out with band practice."

That part I ignored. I already knew who I wanted to ask. "That was a really good idea. Thank you very much, Gordon!"

The next few weeks passed by without incident. Kent and Jared seemed to be spending more time together, talking about trumpets and poetry and who knew what else—and then, seemingly out of nowhere, Kent had a girlfriend. Adam and I continued hanging out and doing homework together, and Sarah joined us more often too. The Fall semester stretched on and I found one of my favorite pastimes was taking my broom off grounds, high into the sky and meandering around the clouds.

It was cold and wet, but I knew enough charms to keep the chill away. Several of my trips took me through inclement weather and I was absolutely fascinated to see the downpour either on level with me, or below me. However, at first suggestion of thunder, I begrudgingly evacuated. More than once I remained in the vicinity for the duration of a short downpour, and the sky afterward was indescribable and aweing. The clouds, having released their heavy burden of moisture, were freshly white and fluffy, like waking up on a Saturday morning with no obligations. The scent in the air was one of the most refreshing and vivacious I've ever experienced: new, warm, earthy air from ground level had risen to mix with fast-moving, chilly atmospheric winds from the recent storm, leaving a dynamic mixture that was invigorating with every breath. It seemed to change from fresh garden vegetables to a clear winter creek by the minute, and I couldn't get enough.

Yet that didn't compare to the stunning gymnastics performed by sunny beams as they bounced from cottony puff to cottony puff, refracting unpredictably through the millions of dissolved prisms laden in the clear air. Stunning rainbows flashed all around me, changing with the brutal winds, dashing through the atmosphere like fireworks, reminding me of the self-unrolling carpets that served as convenient, foldable stairways in some areas of Wambleeska (unfortunately terrifying for those who feared heights). I took special interest in these rainbows and made it a sort of impossible-to-win but brilliantly amusing game to try and catch them. Without fail, I would watch an arc of iridescent color dissolve into existence like Dr. Kopanuk's many devices on her shelves, dash after it on my flimsy-feeling broom, and feel embarrassingly like a cat chasing a laser as I passed through the intangible array, emerging with little more than wet robes and abundant laughter. However, I noted a certain odd phenomenon when I tried this trick on the larger rainbows. I noted it more discernably one specific occasion when I was able to fly in line with a very large beam of color, one that swept through the atmosphere more horizontally and I felt comfortable chasing through it for nearly a minute. There was a certain sensation as I flew in line with it, slightly more tangible than water droplets, and the sensation had a dynamic that felt uncomfortably more purposeful than moisture obeying the wind. But I could think of no way to investigate this conveniently, and soon the rainbow had been blow away, and a moment later I was ready to return to my friends and a dry set of robes.

As these general atmospheric excursions grew longer, I became increasingly uncomfortable of the broom itself: despite the built-in Cushioning Charm, I didn't like depending on a wooden stick for my mobility through the skies. It felt very limiting, irrational as that may have been. However, I wasn't sure what else I could do; brooms offered the most personal, versatile, and free flying experience I could find.

I decided to consider the problem more deeply one time when I reached a plateau several miles away from Wambleeska. Sitting on the edge of a tall, sheer cliff overlooking a large lake, I began examining my broom. I learned in flying class that brooms weren't inherently magical: they were normal wooden cleaning instruments imbued with permanent enchantments. At first I was confused by this, but Professor Gentry explained it well: there are things that are naturally magical, like certain plants or locations. But things that aren't magical can be enchanted with powerful, permanent magic that binds itself to the object until removed with more magic, like the invisible bridge to the Sky Commons. This was the same with broomsticks.

Setting the broom beside me and feeling passively over its wooden, metal, and fabric body, I took off my backpack (dry thanks to an anti-moisture Impervius Charm), and pulled out my Flying class textbook, _Flyer's Guide to Brooms_. There was a brief history on the modern broom, how it came to be mainstream individual travel, and how it works. But flipping through the remainder of the textbook, it was almost entirely flying strategy, rules of the sky, and different variations depending on type or specialization of broom. Unfortunately, this was far from what I wanted: an understanding of how they were made and in-depth of how they worked.

Shrugging off this minor setback, I replaced my flying book with my charms book and took out my wand. Standing, I put my hand out above the resting broom, and muttered "Up." As usual, it obeyed, jumping up on its horizontal position as if on a spring. I caught it, but then slowly let it go. It hovered in place. "Stays up by itself," I muttered. "After summoning." I turned my back to the broom, and took a solid minute to just stare at the sky and passing clouds above. Then I turned back to the broom: still there. "Without my attention," I added. I held my wand up: " _Finite incantatem."_ It was a counter-charm that basically stopped magic and we had just learned it about a week ago. The broom stayed level. Still pointing the wand at it, I nudged the wand a little to the left. To my surprise, the broom followed! I continued sweeping the wand gently around the vicinity, not quite believing my eyes as the broom obeyed as if tugged by string. "Dang. I thought it only moved when ridden." I wasn't sure what further tests I could perform, not without more knowledge or another person. Even with my charms text, the only curious thing I could think of was the motion-freezing charm, which we had practiced plenty in class by this point, but even that I would prefer to test when the broom was actually being ridden.

Shrugging the thoughts away, I supposed I had accomplished whatever I could in this little session. I jumped back on the broom and rode back to the school.

The rest of the semester went by without notable event. The five of us (Adam, Kent, Sarah, and Jared) and I continued hanging out with each other in our spare time, Kent occasionally with his girlfriend. Classes grew more difficult and I found my grades beginning to fall in Potions & Herbology, History, and even Magical Application &Theory. There was a great deal of memorizing in each of these, something that did not come as easily to me. Sarah and Adam were able to help me out with these to an extent, as were the respective professors, but it still did not come easily. Weekends, on the other hand, were a blast.

Between the five of us, we had access to three of the four Sects, and we took advantage of this as much as possible. Sarah was intrigued by the Sky Commons but grew tired of the whirling clouds after a while. Jared, barely making it past the invisible bridge, took one glance at the dynamic sphere and grew considerably nauseated, to Kent's frustration. Jared wasn't close enough with most of the group to take us to Ether Commons, but he did take Kent, who described something to do with gems, stars, portals, and geodes. This admittedly made me more curious and jealous!

But the Ocean Commons that Sarah took us was fascinating to make up for it. She led us to a low, deep part of the plateau where it resembled a cave much more strongly. Soon we encountered an underground river, and then its source: a large pond with a roaring waterfall. Sarah cautioned us to follow closely: she led us over the surface of the pond by a twisting path and then directly through the waterfall—remaining completely dry. Kent at one point stumbled a little too far in the middle of the waterfall, and though Jared pulled him swiftly back, he came out with half his body soaked. The other side opened into a large, rugged and damp cavern dotted with pools, comfortable furniture that somehow wasn't rotting, and dozens of Ocean students eyeing us suspiciously. The cavern was lit by surprisingly non-magical sources including several torches and a lot of brightly glowing algae on the ceiling and walls. At first neither Gordon nor the Ocean Prefect were excited about other Sect students visiting their Commons, but after some convincing they relented that this was far from unusual, but every few visits they would require a minor _Obliviate_ performed exclusively by the Prefect so as to discourage knowledge of the pass sequence.

Finally, the first term ended. The group wished heartfelt goodbyes to each other, for me especially to Adam and Sarah. I wished to both that we could eventually vacation together, and they enthusiastically agreed.

I couldn't have been more excited when my mother had informed me, before this year began, where we were spending this year's winter break. Alaska! Elemental magic was my favorite, and there couldn't be a better American central for ice specialization. And it ended up being all that I could imagine, and more: in the three weeks we were there, we visited the city, a village, and a glacier. At one point my mom and I split off in the native cultural center in Anchorage when she spotted the eagle of MACUSA on a wall. Discreetly she brought out her wand and tapped it. Within moments a staff lady walked up and, when my mom asked her about MACUSA, she nodded and brought us to a doorway.

"Be aware that No-Majs are unable to access beyond this point," she cautioned.

She and I nodded understandingly and we were let in. It was a smaller exhibit area relating strictly magical history, artifacts, and culture. She and I pored over the items that interested us. I learned that there was a phoenix living atop Mount Denali and that had been there for centuries. There were herds of yeti that roamed a mountain range in the south called the Chugach and only a select few individuals of magic-only tribes were in communication with them. That six significant groups of merpeople inhabited the freezing waters of Cook Inlet home and that witches and wizards in the Denai'na and Aleut tribes were in primary contact with them. In fact, shamans of those tribes were often required to intermediate all communications between them and MACUSA. I tried looking for specializations in elemental magic that helped the native tribes survive, but only really found a few blurbs here and there, and mostly only by smaller tribes that lived closer to the mountains or the extreme north.

The beginning of Spring brought a return to the previous semester's difficulty. As second years, the teachers hardly gave a back-to-school reprieve before diving headlong back into the studies. Professor Ecclesiastes was merciless, assigning new Charms as homework and expecting proficiency by the following period's lab session. Engorgement was one of the hardest they'd learned to date, and he felt it was an academic form of torture that Ecclesiastes had assigned it as homework without prior instruction. Adam, Kent, Sarah, and Jared all felt the same as they tried to figure it out together in Oceans Commons the evening it was assigned.

"And he wants us to display it on an _ant_ in lab," Sarah complained. "I can't even get a glass vial to grow."

"Living beings are far more complex," Jared noted.

"My point exactly! I wouldn't want to hurt it…" Sarah said.

"I don't think Ecclesiastes would let that happen," I noted, trying to focus on my own vial.

"I don't think he'd care," Kent mumbled.

I pointed my wand at my vial and looked back at the detailed instructions in the class text. My eyes darted around the page for helpful tips. The book read, " _The Engorgement Charm produces a ring-like projection from the wand, in which the object will expand. Although the skilled charmer can instill will through the charm such that the ring only affects the intended object, this is uncommon and not recommended for the first lesson. Instead, it can be expected that anything within your charm's ring will expand for as long as the ring is present; this is how you control its effect. Focus first on creating the ring in the air; then put it to the test on objects._ " Understanding this, I moved in the text to where it detailed wand position, movement, and incantation.

The others' voices filtered back into my awareness. "…Of course he'd care!" Sarah defended, apparently hurt by Kent's conjecture.

"He's probably more worried about us learning," Kent shrugged.

I glanced to Jared and Adam. They were both studying their texts, like I was. Sarah seemed to be making an attempt, but Kent was looking around the room and someone seemed to catch his attention. I turned back to my wand and pointed it to empty space beside me. _"Engorgio,_ " I whispered. An icy blue jet of light fizzled from my wandtip and melted into the air. I barely perceived the jet even had more than one dimension, but it's possible there was a ring-shape to it. I checked back to the textbook and corrected some probably-irrelevant details. A minute of practice later, I finally noticed a circle shape to the light.

" _Engorgio!_ " Jared yelled beside me about an hour later. I noticed a difference in the syllables he was emphasizing. A broken ring of the same icy blue shot from his wand and swept over his vial, catching about half of it. The vial shattered in on itself, some of the broken shards growing for a few seconds. I stood up and walked over, hoping to help.

" _Repairo_ ," I said over the glass. The pieces flung together but didn't quite meld due to the size changes. "Oops. That vial might be lost. But here, I think I might have an idea of what you could improve. Do you mind?"

Jared looked, annoyed, up at me. Before answering he glanced sidelong toward Kent, who was now in a different area of the commons with his girlfriend. Sighing, he nodded.

"I've been saying the incantation a bit differently," I started, trying to ignore his obvious distaste for my presence. "I dunno who of us is right, but it's worth a try. Also, if you hold your wand a bit steadier and angled more like this—" I displayed with my own wand— "It might help the ring form more precisely and your aim be more accurate. Remember you really want to capture the entire object within the ring."

The expression on his face didn't look entirely receptive. In fact, he still seemed to want me to just go away, and that made me uncomfortable. But I swallowed that and stood patiently, even as my face reddened. Then I realized he might not understand that I wanted to watch him once. "Well, go on," I prodded gently.

He gave an angry sigh, gesturing at the broken vial. "On _what?_ "

"Glass shards can still expand," I noted gently.

Jared's face hardened. Sarah and Adam glanced cautiously over. Jared lifted his wand, taking care to angle it the way I had said. "How did you say the word again?" I reminded him, and he repeated. " _Engorgio._ " The ring flowed forth more pronounced, and cleanly encased more than one of the shards. The pieces shuddered slightly and grew, barely perceptibly. But the ring quickly broke and the effect ceased. Jared grunted in frustration.

"Hey, that was a lot better!" I encouraged.

"The ring broke," Jared hissed. "Lemme figure it out on my own."

"Will do," I said, returning to my seat.

Sarah and Adam both looked to me, nodding.

"Can you do it?" Sarah asked me.

"I'm not sure. But I feel like I've made some decent progress." I gestured at my vial, which was almost the size of a regular drinking cup.

"Dang," Adam said. "I'd say you have."

"Hey, can you show me how to hold the wand?" Sarah asked. "I don't really understand the book's descriptions and I can't get the ring to form cleanly."

I nodded, Adam joined in, and the three of us set to work. Soon I noticed Jared quietly observing, and even Kent and his girlfriend approach and asked some questions.

The next day brought the first Potions & Herbology since the break, and Professor Portetsky was beginning a unit on quality ingredients, how to find and preserve them, and what difference it made from less desirable substitutions. Most of it still didn't significantly interest me and I spent most of the class taking notes for pure memorization's sake. But most of the way through the class, my ears picked up a keyword: "wandwoods." I tuned in and caught something about them being some of the best for certain potions, which was not surprising, but that seemed to be all. When lecture was over, I approached her.

"This doesn't really have to do with the class," I began after greeting her, "but I'm really interested in wands and how they work. That involves wandwoods. I heard you mention them in class, and was wondering if there's anything else you know about them?"

The Professor smiled gently at me. "In context of wands, not so much," she admitted first. "I'm glad you're fascinated but I'm afraid I might not be the best source of information. I can tell you about popular wandwood trees, their biology, and where to find them. Actually…" her eyes brightened a little, and she moved toward the classroom bookshelf. "I remember there being a section on the potency of magical quality inherent in these woods. I don't believe there's any specific reason," she mumbled, eyeing the rows of shelves intently. "It's just how they grow. And you can tell by…" her speech slowed as she narrowed to small section of books. "Bowtruckles."

"Excuse me?" I'd never heard the word before.

Professor Portetsky smiled, amused. "Bowtruckles," she repeated. "They're a small creature that live exclusively in trees of wand-quality wood."

"Oh. Wow." I mentally filed that away in a permanent noteworthy side of my brain. It seemed to be very useful information.

"I believe wandwood trees – well, they're not usually referred to that way, but it serves this context – have a slightly different growth physiology based on the powerful magic they produce." Finally she picked a book from the shelf. "Here you are, my dear. _Identification and Application of Magical Woody Shrubs and Trees_. Mind you it doesn't focus on wand quality trees, but it at least identifies a diverse array of them, and may be a stepping stone on understanding their inherent magical properties. Does that help you?"

"Very much!" I exclaimed, accepting the book happily. "Thank you very much. I'll—" I caught myself, realizing what she might be thinking. "I'll not let it distract me from my homework!"

She chuckled approvingly and we parted ways.

But all classes paled in comparison to MAT – Magical Applications and Theory. Dr. Kaylee Kopanuk was a sweet, cheerful lady with the countenance of one's favorite doting grandma… when chatting or asking for help. But once down to business, the students met the powerful, fiercely intelligent woman who had risen through the ranks of magical academia and achieved her doctorate. Her explanations were sophisticated, her lectures challenging, and her expectations high. "I was born of No-Maj parents in a native village where no one – especially not women – were expected to go anywhere," she had explained to them in a pep-talk in the first week of school when the class had performed low on a quiz. "Through hard work I was noticed by my village, and through more hard work, our shaman. I do not communicate in pity. I understand the difference between low motivation and inability. If any of you have reason to believe you are unable, please see me or Deputy Headmaster Williamsen and we will do our best to accommodate. Low motivation, however, I will not tolerate." In the following weeks, half the class met with Dr. Kopanuk in person for help in the course, which she gladly arranged. Slowly her demeanor changed, and although one or two classmates dropped, her respect for the class seemed to improve. Though, unfortunately, this also meant her lectures became more challenging. We tried to view this as a compliment, between the headaches and stress.

Because of this context, on the same day I had asked Professor Portetsky about the wandwood trees, I felt both trepidation and excitement as I asked Dr. Kopanuk for help in flying. It was something I'd been meaning to do since the rainbow event. "Well, wizards have more than just brooms to fly with."

"Hardly," I commented. I'd only been truly exposed to the wizarding world for a little over a year now, but our options seemed limited. "Carpets… portkeys… illegally enchanted objects… and animals, I guess?"

"Are those so few options to you?" Dr. Kopanuk asked. "Do No-Majs have so many more?"

Her back-questions threw me off a little. But my initial curiosity guided me back to the rails. "It's not the number of options, it's the limitations of the options. With each one, you're tethered to an object, restricted to what it can do, and sometimes in where you can go. My broom is the freest I've ever felt and it has hardly any limitation – yet flying on it has led me here, to ask you this question. I don't know why I feel limited. I just do. Maybe I—"

"You mentioned a tether," Dr. Kopanuk interjected. "Excuse my interruption. But is that a good word to describe your feeling?"

I considered the word for a moment, then nodded.

"What you may have in mind is independent flight. No wizard—outside of Dark Wizard Riddle—has yet invented a spell for independent flight. Now why is that?"

This took me a moment also. But I drew a blank, and shrugged.

"I don't know either!" She smiled vibrantly. "Now isn't that exciting! I'll let you in on a secret. I'm going to be assigning end-of-term projects soon. Each student, or group of students, will be designing a new magical concept. Grading will be based on originality, reality of proposed design, and usefulness. This could easily be yours."

 _Wow_. That would be amazing. "But—does that mean I wouldn't be getting any more help from you?"

"It does. Though truth be told, I couldn't do much more than point you to books at this point, anyway."

"Then could you tell me about wands?" I asked.

"Excuse me?"

"Sorry, it's kind of a separate interest that I also wanted to ask you about. I'm really curious about the kinds of things wands can do and how they work. Spells, too."

"Doesn't sound like a separate interest to me," Dr. Kopanuk noted. "I can tell you a little about how wands work. I studied them a little during school. But I must issue you a warning before you dive into this topic: The base of what you are seeking currently may be power. Finding the limits of magic, seeking to know more and do more, to control more. While the pursuit of knowledge is good, there is an underlying need to control, which is not good. It's something we all innately want, so do not be ashamed. Simply be aware, and do not let a desire for control or for power consume you. Because it can."

I swallowed, face burning a little. Had she really just turned that question into a scolding lecture? But she didn't seem upset. I shrugged it off and nodded.

Next, Dr. Kopanuk reached to her side and drew her wand. It was dark brown, carved with broad curves, and two brass embossed rings shone near the handhold. "To begin to understand a wand, you must first begin to understand how it is made. There are two primary components: the exterior which is almost always wood, and the core, which is almost always some animal part like feather or hair. Mine are fir and phoenix feather. The inherent magical qualities of the components form a higher energy when combined. This higher energy reacts to the human touch in amazing ways, allowing us to cast a spell for almost any desired effect. I should clarify that it's not technically the wand that produces the magic; it simply focuses, directs, and amplifies. You probably know that house-elves are talented at producing powerful magic on their own."

I nodded, barely keeping up with the concepts she was introducing. "So the wand wood and core work together to produce an energy…"

"Yes. Thank you for bringing me back to that. There is a large variety of woods and cores, which is the most important and fundamental concept with wands. Each is of varying power, depending on the inherent abilities of the animal or wood from which it is derived. And not only do they have different levels of power – like the brightness of a flame – but they also react to people differently. Like magnets with positive and negative sides, but far more complex. Do you remember when you bought your own wand?"

I did; it was not long ago.

"You probably went through several, right?"

I nodded.

"They say 'the wand chooses the wizard,' not the other way around. Wandmakers have come to theorize this is because of the intricate energy type produced by the unique wood-core combination. Think of it like a puzzle piece. Not just any other puzzle piece will fit. Likewise, not just any person's personality and abilities will fit with any combination of wood and core. They have to mesh, to fit naturally, to produce the best magic."

My mind span. I vaguely understood, but even that would probably vanish in the next ten seconds. "You haven't even gotten to spells yet…"

Dr. Kopanuk laughed. Her voice was soft and cheerful, like a tapestry flittering in a light breeze. "You'll be glad to hear that's an easier topic. But perhaps for next time. I think we've discussed enough for tonight."

The middle of the second week of school brought an evening I'd been waiting for, for months. I had taken Gordon the Prefect's advice last semester, and to my shock days later, Professor Ecclesiastes had agreed to sponsor me. The group of us – Adam, Sarah, Jared, and Kent – made flyers. Adam helped me come up with a small itinerary for the first few weeks and Sarah chimed in for an overall semester plan. And tonight, it finally began.

There were around ten people in the room, not too shabby for a first meeting. It seemed to consist of a larger number of girls than boys—not incredibly surprising given the English-like subject of study—but this fact alone would make it less difficult to attract more men, and Kent hardly attempted to hide his enthusiasm. The people all chattered about their tables, each with his or her own friends, many of them probably not expecting to meet new people here. He hoped they would be wrong. "Not too bad," I muttered to Adam, Kent, Sarah, and Jared. They all had come along to support him, but Josh knew that Adam was interested in practicing some homework spells and Kent was interested in the ladies. I wondered to myself how this fared with his girlfriend.

"Yeah," Adam said, checking the textbooks in his arms shyly.

"Not too bad," Kent repeated, eyes scanning over his selection. He slid his way into the middle of a group of them as Adam and I made our way quietly to the front to prepare. As I put my notes in order, I looked briefly over the audience for myself: my eyes picked out Sarah again—my heart raced—along with Mr. Ecclesiastes, Dr. Kopanuk, and a few others from my classes whose names I didn't remember. Turning around, I touched my wand to a pencil I had brought and then to the room's chalk. " _Ecrivise copia_ ," I whispered to it. Immediately the chalk sprung into the air and began etching letters onto the board. The movement caused a stir in the audience as they all looked up at it and the muttering became considerably less quiet. Sarah, I happened to notice, was starting to smile—but it was quickly turning into a confused frown.

"What's it trying to write?" A random guy asked.

I spun around to notice that while my chalk was indeed copying letters I had previously written with the pencil, it wasn't exactly transcribing them in any organized fashion. The first word had its letters a full palm's area of space separate from each other, including up and down. However, as I watched, the chalk snapped back into position and continued in a line, as if realizing it was caught and acting responsible. Confused but hoping this serendipitous solution would stick, I turned back around and opened my mouth to begin.

But I was interrupted again. "It didn't work," the same guy pointed out, in a mercifully good-humored tone of voice. I turned around again and saw that after only one word's worth of linear, organized letters, the chalk was going crazy again, as if trying to reach all corners of the board with its markings.

"Uh…" I stuttered, picking up my wand and realizing I needed to end this distraction. I tapped the shelf at the base of the board in hopes that it would simply settle, but instead the chalk starting trying to write on this surface instead, flying crazily over the narrow metal surface. Worrying, I tapped my podium, unsure of exactly what made me think this would be different, but it wasn't: the chalk simply leapt through the air to the podium and began trying to scratch my letters onto its surface. Beginning to panic, I turned to look around for ideas and my wandtip accidentally touched a wall. The chalk flew to the wall and, to my horror, began etching letters over the stone.

" _Finite incantatem,_ " Professor Ecclesiastes' calm, conversation-level utterance was clearly heard through the room, echoed only by the sound of the chalk piece hitting the floor, finally ceased. The Professor's gaze back at me was kind and without judgment.

My mind scrambled. What did I say next? What does one say to recover from that? Something witty? Gosh, they were all staring at me, I had to do something, I had to start, did I thank the Professor?

"And with that, my friends," Kent said loudly, smiling big and encouragingly at Josh, "we welcome you to Spell Practicing Club!"

There was a warm, approving chuckle around the room and the icy moment melted. "Spellscripter's," I corrected my friend in jest, "but thank you."

The meeting continued on that note, everyone having an overall decent time. I deconstructed common spells for the group and showed how their words related to their effect. I tried to discuss ideas for future meetings and what I hoped to get out of it, but it kind of degraded to a big homework study session. No one except me particularly minded, but I still made a mental note to be a tad more prepared next time. As the successful meeting ended and us Skies prepared to head back to our commons together, Gordon caught up with me. "Josh!" He exclaimed in a sort of hushed whisper, pulling me aside.

"Gordon?" I asked, a little surprised. "What are you doing here?"

"Was that Professor Ecclesiastes I saw coming out of your meeting?"

"Uh… yeah?"

"Tell me he's not your sponsor."

My eyebrows flatlined. "What's wrong with that?"

And then Gordon began to redden a little. "It's—uh—hard to explain. He… he's really your sponsor though? I just don't think that's a good idea because—"

"Gordon."

He sighed. "It's not a very clear thing. He has a history. I—ugh—I told you to ask Dr. Kopanuk. But Ecclesiastes and this subject, there's been conflict."

"Conflict."

"Conflict," Gordon repeated a third.

"Well I'm not going to ask him to un-sponsor me. We're all adults. I'm sure whatever conflict there may have been, he's moved past it," I said confidently.

"That's just the thing – he _has_. And I don't want you to dredge it back up," Gordon explained.

I narrowed my eyes at him, but reluctantly saw his reasoning. "But—no! I'm glad for your concern, but whatever his past is, it's his. I don't want to dredge anything up."

"I know you don't want to," Gordon said. "But I don't like the chances."

"I'm sorry," I concluded. "Thanks for the warning, but asking him to stop doesn't feel right. I don't think any of this is my business anyway. Maybe you could tell him all of this."

"But—that would dredge it up even more!"

I didn't respond to this last piece as I continued on to the Sky Commons. Halfway there, though, I feel a change of heart and divert my course; I'm not really tired and would prefer not to hang out in the Commons with Gordon after just arguing with him. Hiding behind some furniture as Gordon passes me in the hall, I double back and make my way through the nighttime school. The dark ambience of the school after hours, lit only by dim torches enchanted to shrink for the night, had a grand peace to it that I hardly ever had the pleasure of feeling. I took out my wand as I walked, examining it again as I had many times – except this time, Dr. Kopanuk's words echoed through my mind. _Mr. Evercare said my wand was mangrove_ , I thought as I walked. _Mangrove with phoenix feather and yeti bone infusion. Dr. Kopanuk hadn't talked about infusions… and hers had brass rings_. I considered this for a moment before stopping by a window, and the rolling hills with sleeping herd of eerie-looking Piasa took my mind away.

Minutes later I continued wandering the halls, mostly aimlessly, before I came to a large, empty chair in a deserted corridor that looked unrestricted. Placing myself there, I continued my usual recreation of waving my wand about in hopes that something fancy would happen. I chuckled at this description before pulling to mind a couple real charms that needed practice. The night then dragged on, my monotonous efforts becoming more and more tiresome. And Jerod was there, frustrated as he always was with my attempts to help him, but the two of us continued at it before I began to question what he was doing here.

"Well you aren't going to get it when you're asleep," Jerod's voice started me awake and I snapped up from where I'd been snoozing on the chair's armrest. It struck me as odd for a moment that he'd be in my dream immediately before waking me, but within seconds the dream was forgotten.

"Oh, hey," I said sleepily, realizing I'd never actually gone to bed between bidding him goodnight at the Spellscripter's Meeting and now. "What are you doing awake?"

"Couldn't really sleep. It's not an odd thing for me. I don't sleep all that much. But I do rest a lot, so it's okay." My drowsy mind didn't really process this, so I just nodded. "But I assume you do. So it makes more sense for me to ask you."

"To ask me?" I asked, my words slurred.

Jared chuckled. "To ask you why you're awake. And actually close to the Ether Commons, but don't tell anyone I told you that."

 _Oh wow, maybe he trusts me_. It occurred to me that he'd still only ever taken Kent there. "Where's Kent?" There wasn't much filter between my thoughts and mouth right now.

Jared chuckled. "Really? Probably in bed. Which brings us back to why you're out here now."

I legitimately forgotten I'd been asked that. "Oh. Um. I was having a hard time. I—got in an argument, I think. Didn't want to go to bed. So I think I came down here to practice. Which must be true… because I'm here," I reasoned to myself.

Jared laughed. "Dude, you better either wake up or go to bed."

The second option sounded really nice, but something close to the front of my mind prodded me to linger for a moment. It took mercifully little back-thought to remember what I wanted: I'd been practicing the fire charm over and over before I'd fallen asleep. That's probably _why_ I'd fallen asleep. With this epiphany, I grew more awake. "Oh, Jared, I just remembered. I was practicing the fire charm. Could I ask your help with that?"

"Fire charm?" Jared asked. "Yeah. Actually, that one's been coming really easily to me for some reason."

"Really? Cause I've been working on it for ages and I can't get it down."

"What part of it are you having trouble with?"

"Making the fire bigger. See, I can make fire," I took out my wand and whispered _Incendio_ , flames flurried out and glimmered in the air before fading. "But there was one time I was practicing and they came out really big. But I can't seem to do it again."

"Have you asked anyone else?"

"Yeah. My local wandmaker. He said something really weird… that I just need to want it."

"I think he's right," Jared said simply.

I resisted the urge to _Incendio_ him.

"I'll give you a chance to explain yourself before I blow you off and go to bed."

Jared chuckled. "Like I said, I've done better with the fire charm than with most other spells. I've been able to do more with it, to have more fun with it, and to modify it more than any other spells. And I think that's all just because I _wanted_ to."

"Can you show me?" I asked.

"Sure. My favorite so far has been this colorless, but really hot flame. Be careful, cause it's pretty dangerous. It's not flashy but it's powerful." He lifted his wand – I noted how long and thin it was; something I'd never noticed before. " _Incendio_ ," he said softly, and a dim blue glow emanated from the wandtip, a little like phosphorescent water. It grew bigger and changed back to orange as it went, but I could feel the intensity of its heat as it came forth. And unlike mine, his fire continued coming as long as he concentrated. Finally, he let up, and the mass of flames in the air finally dissipated. A wave of strong heat passed over me, almost singeing my arm hair. "Like your wandmaker said. It's a desire. I didn't like the regular red fire that comes from the spell. I wanted it to change form. And I wanted it to become more powerful. So, I willed it to. Maybe that's kind of like the engorgement charm you were trying to teach me a while back? How advanced users can just will their rings to make an object grow?"

I considered this quietly, nodding. That was a lot of useful stuff, kind of annoyingly obvious, and I wondered how it hadn't occurred to me before. I probably assumed it was more complex. I had _expected_ my fire to get bigger on demand. I hadn't _willed_ it to. I hadn't wanted it to.

"Thanks, Jared. That was actually really helpful. I appreciate it."

And with that, we made our way back to our own Commons. I felt a lot more at peace thanks to Jared, and fell asleep easily.

The semester continued.

Weeks went by and classes went on, growing more and more challenging, especially while maintaining a club. But the most exciting thing was Quidditch, which had been going all year, but the most important games were coming up. One long weekend, the five of us departed Wambleeska together on our brooms and flew to a plateau several miles away that held a lake. Adam, Kent, and Jared wanted to practice their flying techniques together, and Sarah and I figured it would be a lot of fun to watch.

But I also had a side goal with the lake. I had grown adept with conjuring fire thanks to Jared's instruction and I was making steady progress on my flying spell for Dr. Kopanuk's class, but I was very, very curious about water charms. I wanted a real, respectable source of water to practice with. So as the other guys set off into the air with their practice Quaffles, Sarah walked with me to the lake's edge.

"I also kind of want to understand how you figured that stuff out with fire," Sarah was saying as we both drew our wants.

"You might have better luck asking Jared himself," I said. " _Incendio!_ " The word from my lungs was clear and calm, but I put feeling behind it, desire and excitement. The blossom from my wand was large, bright, a deep orange, and ballooned forth like a dragon's breath.

"Are you serious?" Sarah exclaimed, laughing at the success of my charm. "I think I'll have better luck asking you. Besides, you had told me that Jared's fire was a bit different. Like, clear and hot?"

"Again, better luck asking Jared about his own fire. But yeah. It was odd. More like glowing water, but really hot. But there were a number of odd things about that night. I still don't quite understand why he was out that late in the first place. And that dream I had… I think I felt him coming. But I dunno."

Sarah nodded, unsure how to progress with that line of thought. "So you said you have to _want_ it."

"Basically, yeah. Just like Mr. Evercare had said," I commented to myself. "Think of something fun in your life. Something exciting, that you want to do. That's the kind of feeling you should get when you conjure this charm. Or produce any spell, really. Whatever effect it has, think of how much you want it. And then you can really control what it does." I walked out a couple inches' depth into the lake. "But I'm going to focus on the lake. " _Glacius_ ," I said, pointing my wandtip a at the water's surface few feet from my shoes. The light blue jet hit the water and a formidable web of frost spread from the point of contact over several square inches. I could nearly hear the crackle of rapid freezing as more ice built itself up in the location. Soon I had a considerable chunk floating in front of me, almost enough to stand on.

"Note to self, don't use on people," Sarah commented, having turned back toward me from practicing her own fire conjuring. "That'd probably kill someone in the face."

"Noted," I said, but I was far more excited than nervous. That was amazing! I could only imagine how much water I could freeze if I held the spell for several seconds. And what else could I freeze? And what would happen to glass if… but I held back my questions for further testing.

"Also, where'd you find that spell?" Sarah asked, still eyeing the new iceberg floating in front of us. "I don't remember it from our lessons."

"It may or may not be from a third-year text," I admitted. "But I'm not that interested in creating ice. _Wingardium leviosa_." Sarah, shockingly not interested in a flying piece of ice, turned back to her fire. Continually surprised at the difficulty of this charm, I made sure to articulate the delicate hand gestures it required. The sizeable ice chunk shivered in the water before rising upward gently, although it took several seconds before it actually lost contact with the water, the ice extending further down than I thought. Numerous water droplets succumbed to the effects of the charm as well, and I found myself incidentally raising a small mist along with my globe of ice. Together the spectacle reached the height of my head before I slipped in some area of articulation and all phases of water dropped back to their source with a large splash. Sarah had an on me and had moved in time, but I ended up with half my clothes soaked.

I decided a levitation charm was probably not the best. Thinking back to the charms I'd read about in preparation for this and out of curiosity, I tried to isolate the strictly water-based ones that came to mind. An advanced one came to mind, even though it was a couple years beyond my current standing. I pointed my wand up and away from people, then: " _Aqua eructo!_ " No jet of light issued forth. Instead, it was full-throttle water on the instant. It came pouring from my wand like the Incendio Charm produces with fire, it was frothing white with intensity, and it was arcing high through the air as I pointed. As I held the wand steady, I thought about what I'd read. This charm didn't just produce water… it did more than that. Focusing, I thought about the right-hand direction. The water spout obeyed, angling its arc to the right even though I did not move the wand. I did the same with the left. I shot the water vertically into the air, willed it into loop-de-loop, levitating mass in the air, and a spinning spiral.

"Watch it!" Kent yelled from above on his broom, where he'd almost flown through the wildly changing paths of my stream and interrupted their Quidditch practice. That broke my concentration and the long torrent of water looping through the air collapsed and fell like drenching rain into the lake. That was fascinating and fun, but still not quite what I had hoped to do. Instead of making water from my wand, I wanted to control what already existed around me. What charm had I just used? Aqua Eructo. The components of this charm, I reasoned to myself, sounded like "water" and "erect." Could it be possible that dropping the "water" component would drop the water-conjuring part, leaving only "erect," or "lift"? I wanted to try.

" _Eructo_ ," I said simply, pointing my wand at the lake's surface in hopes that I wasn't about to produce a geyser like before. To my great excitement, the water around my feet drew itself up and lifted higher and higher into a gleaming wall. I began walking forward, gaining ground against the lake shore and lifting the wall of water thicker and higher, as if someone was pushing into a pile of leaves. "Sarah!" I exclaimed, dividing my attention but staying careful on keeping the water in form. "Come here!"

Sarah looked up from the book she'd been reading, over to me, and then to the surrounding water. "Me? Over there?"

"Yeah!" I exclaimed, nudging the water in front of me back with my wand as it threatened to lose form. "You should check this out!"

"I dunno," she said nervously. "Water isn't so much my thing. I'm cool standing in it by the shore, but you're... kinda far out."

"Really?" I asked, surprised. "You don't like water?"

"It's not that I don't like water, I just—" she looked back over me and the depth I was at. "Okay, maybe it is. I was even squeamish the first times getting into my commons. That water is deep and freaky and only when I really memorized the path… But the thought of falling in, of being underwater…"

"But you won't be in the water," I persisted.

"I dunno. If something goes wrong…"

"I guess it's up to you," I said, a little downcast. But a moment later Sarah strode to my side.

"Just… don't let it go wrong," she smirked, still worried.

I led her further out several feet from where I had started, where the water in front of me was becoming as tall as me, and I noticed I had created a clearly defined path from the shore, as if I was plowing through deep snow. But it was becoming hard to maintain. Something else I'd read occurred to me: a strengthening charm; an extra word wizards added to almost any charm to double or triple its strength; like adding "very" to a description. It was an odd word, I remembered as I tried to recall it; it was like a number, a double— " _Eructo Duo!_ " I exclaimed just as Sarah showed up beside me.

"Wow," she whispered as the path around us grew even clearer. Water from immediately surrounding parts of the lake swelled toward us and lifted into walls on either side, and ahead of us, the way cleared even further; a literal enchanted pathway.

"Kent, look what Josh is doing!" I heard Adam shout from above on his broom, even as he chased a small pebble that had been enchanted to dodge around like a Snitch.

I paused in my path-crafting to look up and watched as Adam, Kent, and soon Jared slowed on their brooms a dozen feet above us to check out the amount of water I was charming.

It was only as I felt a cold rush seizing up on my legs did I realize that their attention had completely distracted me from my charm. The water was collapsing. No sooner did I register Sarah's shocked scream than I was submerged myself. The wall I had been pushing above us collapsed with as much fury and weight as the water swelling up from my feet, and soon all my senses were frigid and blind. _Sarah must be terrified,_ I thought as I kicked my way up. I broke the surface about the same time Sarah did, but noticed she was having a much harder time staying afloat.

" _Eructo_ ," I said again, pointing my wand at the water around me. Quickly it molded itself back to my will, a bowl opening itself under me to meet my feet, and soon I was standing on a hardened surface. Immediately once it lifted me to surface level, I looked long to the shore and pointed my wand at Sarah's broomstick. Conscious of both the water holding firm beneath me and the broom now in my wand's target, I gestured with the wand, and the broom slung itself toward me in obedience. As I hoped, it was just like that practice on the plateau last semester. Within seconds the broom was within distance of Sarah, and I gestured it within her grasp.

"Josh!" She exclaimed, mounting the broom as it floated beside her. "Thank you!"

"Adam, _look what Josh is doing!_ " Kent exclaimed.

I plunged back under, forgetting my Eructo Charm in satisfaction with helping Sarah. It occurred to me as I submerged once again that the guys above had seen this entire thing. As I treaded my way back to the surface, I saw her hover close by me on her broom, and she tugged me by hand as she flew back to shore. Adam, Kent, and Jared met us on land.

"How did you _do_ that?" Kent asked excitedly, dismounting his broom and holding it like a walking staff.

"Man, I wish I knew a charm to dry out my clothes," I said, squeezing out my shirt. "But I also wish I knew a better charm to walk on water and… a lot more things," I lamented.

I felt a hard nudge at my stomach and looked up to see Kent prodding with his broom. "Hello," he said. "Any explanation?"

"Actually yeah," Sarah said. "I'd like to understand that too. I mean, the water thing was amazing, but you used a real spell to do that. But with my wand… I've never seen that before."

"Me either," Jared said.

I shrugged. "Honestly, I'm not sure. I think I kind of made it up. I was just experimenting with things. I go out flying a lot; I just wanted to see if there was more I could do with the broom than fly on it. Or rather, more ways I could fly than with a broom. So I wanted to understand how they work."

"You realize what this means?" Kent asked. "Remote controlling a broom? With a wand?"

"I dunno," I said. "I don't think it works when someone else is riding it."

Jared hopped back on his broom and hovered in place. "Kent, try to control me."

Without hesitation, Kent pulled out his wand and pointed it at Jared's broom. He gestured it left and right. With no response, he cursed, and Jared dismounted again.

"Guys, they would've figured that out centuries ago with Quidditch," Adam said. "Besides, I bet they use counter-charms on brooms before games."

"Quidditch?" I asked. "Is that what this is about?"

"Of course," Kent replied nonchalantly, then looked back at Adam. "Yeah, but it didn't look like a real charm when Josh did it. He didn't use words or anything."

"Kent, can you show us again?" Adam asked.

"I dunno if I want to," I said, stepping back a little with realization of their intentions. I glanced at Sarah, hoping to see a similar look of disapproval on her face.

"Why not?" Kent asked. "We're just experimenting, like you said."

"What about that book you've been writing your stuff in?" Adam asked.

"Book?" Kent asked.

"It's like a journal," Adam explained. "He uses it all the time for the Spellscripter's Club. He writes all sorts of his ideas and discoveries in there. Could anything in there help us?"

"Adam!" My draw dropped at his words; stabs of betrayal jabbed at me.

"What?" Adam asked. I saw in his face that he meant no harm. "Do you mind if we see it?"

"I'm not going to help you cheat!" I yelled, my frustration over the conversation bursting.

Adam's face went white, then defensive. "What? Cheat? What are you talking about? We just want to see if there could be any useful tactics!"

"I don't see what legal use controlling someone else's broom during Quidditch could have," I pointed out accusingly—but immediately regretted it with the hurt that hardened Adam's face.

"Maybe _you_ don't," Adam defended. "But I don't think we could use an empty broom to cheat even if we wanted to. Maybe we could return a broom to a downed teammate. I don't think _that's_ cheating."

"Empty broom right now," Kent said calmly. "But there's always room for improvement."

"Improvement?" Adam asked, snapping to look at him.

"Just saying," Kent continued. "I think we could figure out how to control more than just an empty broom."

"Why would we want to do that?" Adam asked. " _That_ sounds more like cheating."

"And?" Kent jabbed. "Remember what we vowed last year. We're _going_ to win. And we could really use that book," his gaze lazily rolled over to me.

"Like I said," I repeated. "I'm not going to help you cheat."

Kent shrugged. "It wouldn't be you helping if we were to just glance at your book. You can't control what we would read. And you'd be doing us a big favor."

"He said no," Sarah said. "But anyway, let's drop this. Obviously none of us are going to cave right now. How about you guys teach Josh and me a little more about Quidditch mechanics?"

The tension melted like ice. Excitement washed back over Kent, Adam, and my faces. We all mounted our brooms and shot back into the air.

Present Day

Before even lunch hour had struck, I received a call at work from the Auror's office. There had been a new and unique crime in town, currently being blocked from No-Maj viewing by the conjuring of a perception filter, that seemed by pattern to be related to the case of Mr. Evercare. I made my way immediately downtown and to a park where I'd been instructed to go. Thankfully, in morning of a business day, few No-Majs were around. I easily found my way to several police cars crowded around a part of a river that wound its way through the park.

Mr. Klutch met me outside my car and I immediately wondered if someone else had been murdered. "There is no victim," he said right away, sensing my suspicion. "Just a case of magical vandalism, if you will. We almost weren't sure if it qualified as a real crime, but the effects _will_ be difficult to remove, and the appearances significantly resemble the No-Maj body we'd found yesterday. That's why they called me in."

I got out of my car, locked it, and took an initial glance around. "I don't see anything."

"It's on the bridge," Mr. Klutch said.

 _What bridge?_ I thought to myself. The river had no crossing at this location.

Seeing my wonder, he gestured me forward toward the bank. As we walked, I felt a sensation like a strong breeze rustling through my clothes, and realized with shame that we'd walked through the perception filter. Immediately the bridge expanded into view, as if it had been hiding behind a tree the whole time. "Sorry," I chuckled. "I forgot about that." Nicole and Ignatius were already there, not having had an office to prepare before leaving. Yet still, I had a hard time understanding the situation: the bridge seemed normal.

"It's amazing," Ignatius said. "Truly fascinating. Come, take a look. I don't know what our vandal did, but it took concentration and power. Maybe even an inclination for art." I walked with him up to the bridge, which was made entirely of brick, and noticed that the mortar sealing each brick into place was missing. There was no replacement filling in the gaps: each individual brick was therefore hovering in place. Toward the edges of the bridge, I could see sunlight between the spaces. I noticed an ant crawling up from the underside of one of the bricks. I wondered if I could reach down and simply dig out any of the bricks that I wanted; if they'd just bounce around in the air and let me push them aside.

"It gets stranger as you watch or mess with it," Mr. Klutch said. "Just like that corpse, there's more than one enchantment going on here."

I approached the bridge cautiously and watched. Within seconds a glow emanated from the spaces between the bricks. It flashed on as if someone had placed a lit wand beneath the surface and then moved across the bridge, extinguishing itself on the other side. Then the bricks began changing color. A mossy green appeared from the other side and spread across like water, followed by yellow, then red, then an electric blue, which remained. Next the blue bricks began to spin longways, vibrate violently, and finally frost over. I felt bad for that ant.

"The changes don't stop," Mr. Klutch commented. "The investigators said the bridge has been acting like this since the first No-Maj came across it early this morning—she was obliviated by the first Auror, of course.

"The bridge isn't the only thing," another Auror said from several feet away. "Several trees in the area are acting the same way. We've had to expand the perception filter as new trees act up. They're doing basically the same thing: bark changing color, leaves singing melodies, going in and out of visibility, sometimes random fruits of different variety grow on branches, ripen within seconds, fall to the ground, and usually rot on the spot. But one or two have remained." He indicated an orange and a tomato that on the ground looked in edible condition by one tree.

As I was watching one tree seem to turn slowly into stone, Etik launched himself out of my sleeve and to the ground. "Etik!" I called after him, but the bowtruckle was determined, running as fast as his twig legs would carry him – a startling speed. I chased after even as he ran back through the perception filter. On the other side, I noticed movement just in time to see him dart up a smaller tree. It took me about a minute of searching in the tree before I spotted him, and that's only when he moved to attract my attention. "Etik," I said in wonder, "what's gotten in to you?" I put up my hands for him to crawl back into, but he remained on the branch he'd chosen.

Nicole, Ignatius, and Mr. Klutch followed slowly and curiously.

"Anything noteworthy?" Mr. Klutch asked.

"Not sure yet," I replied. Etik's behavior was noteworthy to me, but I didn't know if it was relevant to the case. But my mind soon changed in that direction as I watched Etik clutch on to his branch and began inspecting the tree's bark. Within seconds, I saw him interacting with the bark in very telltale ways. "Actually, that's a yes, Mr. Klutch. Do you know anything about bowtruckles?"

"Hardly," Mr. Klutch replied.

"They're a tree-dwelling species," Nicole said, probably remembering what I'd told her over the years.

"Correct," I replied. "And they only inhabit trees of wand-quality wood. Mr. Klutch, Etik has sensed a wandwood tree."

"What?" One of the other Aurors exclaimed. "Impossible! No tree in this park could be wandwood. Those are very rare."

"Exactly. I don't think it started that way. Our vandal has imbued that tree with magic."


End file.
